Melting Hearts Domestic Bliss
by Anna Greenway
Summary: Companion piece to Melting Hearts. See opening note.
1. Chapter 1

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This story is a companion piece to Melting Hearts. I apolgoise again to those who were disappointed I had to abandon the previous attempt, yet it just wasn't working, and I think it will work far better in this format - each chapter being a separate short story and snapshot of their ongoing lives. Rest assured I have vowed that no chapter will be posted unless finished, and so as they all essentially stand alone, you won't be burned this time. I hope some of my readers are still with me, and perhaps still interested in this world and story. If not, well I enjoyed it anyway!

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**Melting Hearts - Domestic Bliss**

CHAPTER ONE - LILY

"DADDY!"

Dropping his work bag to the floor with a dull thud, John steeled himself as his daughter Lily pelted toward him and leapt into his arms. At two and a half, she was still pretty light, and at a nice age when she was still young enough to adore him, and old enough that she had been toilet trained for a full three months now. She grinned and giggled, her brown hair bouncing as he swung her around and then pecked her neatly on the lips. He felt a rush of love as he looked into his daughter's eyes, which were the identical smiling blue of his own. Her brown hair made her look a lot like Monica, and she was as gentle as Monica, but in there too he recognised himself, and a little bit of Christi.

"Did ya miss me?"

She nodded enthusiastically and clung to him all the tighter. He kissed her again as he carried her through to Christi and Charlie's living room where the rest of the family were gathered. Scully was not yet home from where she taught at the Medical School, but the rest of the family were there: Anne and Jack helping out with preparing the meal, the table covered in platters of meat and salads, Christi moving around fetching herself a drink whilst balancing baby Lachlan to her exposed breast as he fed hungrily, Charlie clinking handfuls of cutlery as he emptied the drawer, Deirdre calmly leaning against the bench with a mug of tea, and Mulder over in the kids' play area, head sticking out the window of the girls' plastic cubbyhouse, a folded newspaper pirate hat jauntily stuck on his head.

"Ahoy there!" he called, nodding to John. John couldn't help smiling with amusement.

Mulder's head left the window as Chloe leapt on top of him. She was Charlie and Christi's middle child, a gorgeous kid with fluffy blonde hair and blue eyes - a near clone of her mother. She was still in diapers, but she was the fastest and cheekiest of all the five kids, and had a permanent mischievous grin on her face that was second to none, and made Christi and Charlie keep one eye tracked on her at all times like clowns at a fair.

On the bright blue fuzzy play rug sat John's own son Nathan, only six months old yet watching the play with a sloppy smile.

John set down Lily on the floor as they reached the kitchen, and she trotted over to join the fun whilst another girl disentangled herself from Mulder, and looking tired, drifted over to Christi. Catherine was three years old now, had the Scully family red hair, an intelligence that far surpassed her age, and an adoration of Scully that was yet to show any sign of dimming. Catherine was Christi and Charlie's eldest daughter, yet to John it often seemed as there was an invisible umbilical cord between Scully and Catherine. From the moment she could walk Catherine had followed Scully around like a shadow, and Mulder had christened her Scully's "Mini Me".

"What's the matter, hmm?"

Christi ran her free hand through Catherine's red hair, sweeping it back as she buried her tired face into Christi's side.

"When's Aunt Dana getting home?" Catherine asked, in a voice barely loud enough for John to hear.

"Soon," John answered. "I rang her just as she was leavin'. She can't be far behind me."

He did not explain why he had called her, and nor did the family ask, though Deirdre was watching him closely as she finished her tea. All four of the survivors called each other frequently during the day, and even though Scully worked at the Medical School and only one half day at the Bureau as a Medical Doctor, they were in constant contact. It was a mark of their ongoing Post-Traumatic Stress that they needed to hear each other's voices, and when the memories so often soared unwelcome into their minds it was a relief to speak to someone who had also been there, who knew how it felt to shoulder the struggle of making it to the end of every day.

And as if by ESP, at that moment Mulder and Monica both appeared, Mulder dusting himself off and straightening his work suit as he left Lily and Chloe to play together, and Monica emerging from the glass sliding door that led to the patio and the gate in the fence which connected to their own house next door.

"Hey," he said, smiling as he saw her. She did not return the smile, wearily removing her reading glasses and rubbing her eyes. Her eyes passed over their son on the rug, and their daughter giggling from within the cubbyhouse, but she did not manage a smile as she came to join them.

"You okay?"

"Big Foot, Boogeyman or Abominable Snowman?" Mulder asked, removing his pirate hat and placing it on Catherine's head.

"Snowman," Monica replied.

John drew her into his arms. He understood perfectly the cryptic language in which Mulder and Monica spoke, and knew it was due to the kids that neither of them were more explicit. But the Snowman meant Monica was thinking of the mountains, trapped by the memories just as much as they had been trapped by the avalanche those four years ago. He knew the feeling well. In his own head there were images he couldn't shake, and the best remedy for him was to keep busy - working as a Health & Wellbeing Officer at the FBI field office, working out at the gym, and playing with the kids. The same remedy had worked for Scully, who worked a full time schedule now between the Medical School and FBI, and often wasn't home til late at night. Mulder, whilst he worked part time at the FBI as a profiler, had found a love for life in the five kids, and never grew tired of joining in their games, making them laugh, taking them for walks to the local park and generally spoiling them rotten in any way he could think of. The fact that none of them were his own did not matter - as the family setup was very much a team parenting arrangement.

"I need a word," Monica said.

John nodded and followed her, Mulder coming with them as Monica tugged on his sleeve, and the three of them made their way back through the sliding doors to the warm night of September outside. They sat down in the green outdoor furniture on Christi's patio, Monica sinking into it with a look of exhaustion, her hands immediately falling over her face as though trying to wipe away the unpleasant experience. Through the windows John could see Catherine looking at them, studying them with an intelligent gaze she seemed to mimic off her aunt. A moment later Anne beckoned her over, putting a stack of plates into her hands and asking her help in setting the table. In the cubbyhouse Lily and Chloe played on, oblivious to the rest of the family, and Nathan gurgled happily on the rug, now having Jack's full attention, while Lachlan still suckled in Christi's arms.

But now she had John and Mulder alone, Monica seemed at a loss for anything to say. John automatically slid his arm around her and felt her tense muscles under his palm.

"How bad?" he asked.

Again, she did not answer, but as she looked at him a frightening dark shadow passed through her eyes. John tightened his arm and all of a sudden felt a reverberation of the panic he had felt four years ago in Washington. The scars were still visible on Monica's left wrist, and the scars in his own mind would never heal. Mulder shifted his own chair closer and wrapped a strong hand around hers. His worried eyes studied her expression closely.

"Out of ten?" Mulder asked quietly.

"Two," Monica confessed.

This system of rating their depression out of ten had become habit, and an easy way for the four of them to communicate their level of depression. One was suicidal, and ten was normal. Monica's rating of two was not unheard of, as she sank low fairly frequently, and more so since the birth of Nathan had brought on some post-natal depression. They were fortunate in that having a large family around enabled her to have plenty of help with the two kids, and Anne and Jack were always ready and willing to assist. Yet Monica's depression lingered, and no amount of counselling could eradicate it completely.

A flicker of red passed through John's peripheral vision and he turned to see Scully entering through the gate in the fence. She looked slightly flustered, as though she had lived the day at a hundred mile an hour, and only now was her world starting to stop spinning now that she had arrived home.

"Catherine!"

A disciplinary call rang out from inside, and John looked to see Catherine standing with her hand on the sliding door handle, ready to fling it open now that Scully was home. But she stopped as Christi called out. Wordlessly Catherine pointed in Scully's direction, but Christi shook her head.

"Stay inside," Deirdre echoed, giving her great niece a firm look.

The sight of Catherine standing hopefully at the door brought a warm smile to Scully's face, and she threw her niece an affectionate wink as she made her way over to them. As soon as Catherine turned away and heeded Christi's instructions to leave them alone, Scully's smile vanished as she looked at Monica with something bordering on alarm.

Darkness fell as Deirdre drew the blinds across the windows, giving them privacy from the five kids.

"Two out of ten," Mulder summarised for her. "Weather radar's showing snowstorms."

Scully clasped her hands between her knees as she studied Monica's appearance with a doctor's eye.

"Have you been taking your medication?"

Monica nodded wearily.

"Twice a day," John supplied. He had made sure of that, as she often did for him during his own down times.

"I think we need to get it reviewed," Mulder added.

Scully nodded, but her attention was still entirely focused on Monica.

"Do you need to speak to Deirdre? Or Anne?"

Monica shook her head. John knew the feeling. There were only so many times they could skate over the same topics with Deirdre. They had each spent hundreds of hours with her, going over all their memories and troubles again and again, and she had implemented every strategy she knew. But there was no magical cure, and many times they did not have the energy to talk about it yet again, only wanting to sit in safe company until it went away.

"Do you need a doctor?"

"To do what?" Monica countered, looking helplessly at her friend.

"Get emergency treatment," Scully said professionally. "We can take you to hospital. If you think there's any danger of -"

"There's not," Monica said. She looked hard into Scully's eyes.

After a second of uncomfortable silence, John resumed roaming his hand over Monica's back.

Mulder, however, was staring at Monica's hands.

"Do you realise you're doing that?" he asked softly.

John followed Mulder's look and saw Monica subconsciously rubbing her right hand over her left wrist. Her skin was red from the friction and her scar stood out distinctly. A glance into Scully's eyes told him she had also noticed the behaviour. John took Monica's right hand and encased it in his own.

Monica looked puzzled. She had evidently not noticed the behaviour.

Scully sighed. "Monica ..."

"It's just a bad day," Monica said, recovering. "It happens all the time. You know what it's like."

There was another long pause in which a shadow of Scully's own pain passed through her eyes. After a moment she reached forward and laid her hand on Monica's knee, rubbing softly. John tightened his arm around Monica's shoulders.

"You just stick with us," John told her. "Take it easy tonight. We'll look after the kids."

And after another moment Monica leaned sideways into him, and he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hair.

XXX

In the pitch darkness of her bedroom, Lily lay in bed, eyes peering over the top of her covers. She desperately needed to go to the bathroom. Her Mommy usually made her go before bedtime, but her Mommy had been weird tonight. There had been no bright smile, no big cuddle, no kiss on her lips. Instead Aunt Dana had carried her to bed. Aunt Dana's hugs were nice too, but she had not taken her to the bathroom.

The shadows in the room were frightening, but with a little help from a glow around the curtain she could see the door to the hallway. The bathroom was just opposite. She debated it for a long while before she got the courage to leave her cosy bed. Then she silently slipped her small feet to the soft carpet and tiptoed to the door, reaching up to heave it open.

She stopped when she saw the bathroom light on under the door. She glanced to her Mommy and Daddy's bedroom but the door was closed and dark. Not thinking anything of it, Lily reached up and grabbed the handle with both hands, twisting it and pushing it open.

Then she screamed.

XXX

"Jesus!"

In their own home, Scully bolted upright in bed as a terrifying scream ripped through the silent neighborhood. Beside her Mulder also flew up. The scream was from a young girl, and went on and on, piercing Scully's ears like someone had hit the repeat button of a stereo.

Frantically Scully threw back the covers, and in one movement swiped up her keys and jammed her bare feet into some sneakers. Beside her Mulder was doing the same.

"It sounds close," Mulder said, panicked and hurrying to the door. "One of ours -"

Scully was too terrified to reply, and threw open the bedroom door, sprinting to the stairs with Mulder at her side, both of them thundering down to the lower level. With no time to even turn on lights, she led the way to the rear door, undoing the latch and crashing it open so the cool night air hit her face. At the same time Anne and Jack came dashing through from the gate which led to their house, both white with terror and in pyjamas and bare feet as the scream continued to shriek across the neighborhood.

"Shit! Scully it's -"

"Lily," Scully finished, already bolting for the gate in the fence. As she glanced up at Monica and John's dark house next door, the upstairs lights came on. A split second later they came on in Christi and Charlie's house.

The strength and terror of the scream tore through Scully's heart, and she yanked open the side gate and the four of them bolted through Monica and John's backyard to the rear door, where they were momentarily held up as Scully searched her keys. As she jammed it into the lock they were joined by Christi and Charlie sprinting through their own side gate, Christi in a skimpy satin nightie, and her blonde hair flying.

"LILY!"

Scully yelled her name, but the scream did not cease as they entered the dark house. Jack flicked on the light and as one they headed for the stairs.

"JOHN!" Christi called.

"MONICA!" Mulder yelled.

They repeated the names as they flew up the stairs, Scully in the lead. She ran to the bathroom door, which was wide open and in a split second took in the terrifying sight which met her eyes: Monica was slumped in the bath in a black nightie, and blood was running in streaks around her left wrist. John was leaning over the bath, one hand in Monica's hair, the other in mid-air and not daring to touch the blood. And standing next to the door was Lily, still screaming her lungs out, her blue eyes wide and utterly petrified.

Immediately Scully sprinted to the bath and took control, ripping a white towel from the rack and pushing up her sleeves.

"Get an ambulance!"

Mulder bolted out of the room. John suddenly seemed to catch sight of his screaming daughter.

"Get out of here!" he threw at her.

Lily continued to scream, rooted to the spot. Anne peeled off the crowd and went to her, scooping her up in her arms. Scully saw a puddle of urine where Lily was standing.

"Shhh ... it's okay, honey ... shhh ..."

Scully wrapped Monica's wrist in the towel and held it above the height of her heart. The cut was not deep, and seemed to have more intention to wound and release pain rather than commit suicide.

The next few minutes passed in agony for everyone. Monica was not with it, though she was conscious she was in a deep depression and ignoring them. John perched on the edge of the bath, trying to comfort and be of help but really only getting in Scully's way, Charlie hovered beside them looking helpless, Christi peeled off as Nathan had woke at his sister's screaming and was now wailing at the top of his tiny lungs, and Anne carried the hysterical Lily from the room as Jack was left to use a towel to soak up the puddle on the floor and stop it spreading. Eventually Scully heard sirens and Mulder's voice downstairs as he let in the paramedics.

"Hang in there," she told Monica, comforting her as best she could.

John stood up to let the paramedics in.

"Can you take the kids?" he asked Jack, and without waiting for a reply hurried out of the room to grab some clothes for the trip to hospital.

XXX

It all happened so fast Anne barely had time to think until suddenly the house was nearly empty. John, Mulder and Scully had all thrown on clothes and dashed to the hospital, no doubt taking the residential roads like a formula one racecourse. Charlie, frightened by the sheer panic the three were exhibiting went after them, and Anne had sent Jack along too, with a silent agreement that he would look after the kids, and her the grandkids. The only one left with her was Christi, who was pacing the upstairs hallway with Nathan against her shoulder, as Anne stood in the doorway of Lily's room with Lily still crying hysterically in her arms. The unpleasant stench of urine wafted up her nostrils from Lily's soiled pyjamas.

"It's okay honey ... it's all right ..."

She repeated the line over and over, but it did no good as Lily was beyond all reason and control. Anne felt tears welling up behind her eyes as she struggled to take in everything that had just happened.

"Mom?"

A small voice caught Anne and Christi's attention, and they turned around to see Catherine standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in her own small pyjamas and her red hair ruffled from sleep. Chloe's hand was gripped tight and protectively in hers, as Chloe peered around with a bewildered expression.

"Where's Lockie?" Christi asked. She looked suddenly afraid and Anne knew why. The memory of Luke was in her own mind and she, too, did not want any of their kids left unsupervised.

"Asleep," Catherine said innocently.

Christi quickly moved to place Nathan in Catherine's arms.

"Here - hold your cousin - stay here with Grandma ..."

Christi left to fetch her remaining child and suddenly Anne was alone with the kids. The house was quiet now except for Lily's soft crying as she clung tightly to Anne's torso - so tight that she almost had trouble breathing. Catherine stood silently with Nathan heavy in her arms, awaiting instructions. Chloe hovered nearby, not understanding what was happening and happily swinging her feet without a care in the world.

Anne struggled to pull herself together as she again felt hot tears welling up in her eyes. The thought of Monica was crippling, but she was in good hands now at the hospital. Her priority had to be the kids.

"Come downstairs," Anne said.

She led the group down to the lower level, which was brightly lit, and instructed Catherine to place Nathan in the pusher for the moment. He was quite calm now, no longer fussing and he went down with ease as Catherine expertly covered him with a blanket. Experience with two younger siblings and cousins had not been lost on her.

Anne meanwhile went to the kitchen bench where she grabbed Monica's cell phone from its charger and found Deirdre's number in the contacts list.

It was seven full rings before she answered, and all the while Anne prayed she would pick up, struggling to balance the crying Lily in her arms - who was still clinging so tight it hurt - and at the same time hold the cell phone to her ear.

At last her sister picked up, answering with a sleepy voice.

"Monica?"

"Anne," she corrected, and heard her voice shaking. She struggled to keep it in check, though knew it would not be long.

Suddenly Deirdre sounded fully awake. "What's wrong?"

"Can you come over here?"

"What's the matter? Who's that crying?"

Anne swallowed back her tears. "It's Lily, I ... can you just come? And Carol and Jenny, I - I really need your help."

Over the phone she heard Deirdre moving around, a noise that was perhaps a wardrobe door opening.

"I'm begging you," she added,and heard her voice break again.

"Hold on Anne," Deirdre said. "I'm on my way."

XXX

It was only fifteen minutes before Deirdre arrived, and Carol and David rolled up almost immediately after. Jenny and Brian, who lived an hour out, would be longer, and in the time since her call to Deirdre Anne had begun to regret dragging them out of bed, but then she looked around the room again and was in no doubt of her need for help. Christi had her hands full trying to settle Lachlan, whom she had brought over from her own house, and his fussing had stirred up Nathan. Chloe sat with uncharacteristic obedience, wondering what all the commotion was about, and Catherine hovered at their sides wanting to be of help, but there was nothing she could do. In the time since the phone call Lily had only tightened her grip on Anne's torso, her knees jammed like two iron clamps into Anne's rib cage and her thin arms strangling her neck. The weight on her chest made it hard to breathe, and Anne had initially tried to pry her off in order to change her pyjamas, but it was simply not possible. Lily was absolutely petrified, and refused to loosen her grip by even a fingernail.

"Not so tight, honey," Anne repeated, for what was the thousandth time. But as she made her way to the door Lily only gripped harder, and Anne had a mouthful of her hair.

"Who is it?" she asked, hand on the lock. Luke's murder was never far from her mind.

"Charlie's angels," came Carol's cheery voice. "Open up, Anne."

Anne opened the door, and in came her youngest sister Carol with her husband David, both fully dressed, and then Deirdre, who was wearing her black trench coat over purple pyjamas, her feet in sneakers, and despite her dress looked characteristically calm.

"What happened?" Deirdre asked, casting her eyes around the room and taking in the presence of all five kids, Christi, and the complete absence of everyone else.

"Monica's cutting again," Christi supplied. "They took her in an ambulance to hospital."

Even as she said this, Anne cast an eye over the kids, and as she'd predicted saw Catherine following the conversation with interest, though it was beyond the other four. She immediately gave her companions a silencing look.

"Come on, guys," Christi said to her kids, holding out a hand to Catherine and beckoning to Chloe. "Adventure's over. Let's get you back to bed."

Catherine pointed in protest to Lily. "But -"

"No, _bed_," Christi said firmly. She balanced her son over her shoulder as she took Catherine's hand. Chloe happily trotted along as Christi led the trio up the stairs to find them a bed.

Anne stood in silence with her sisters and brother-in-law until they had rounded the top of the stairs and disappeared, and then found herself barraged with questions.

"All right, what happened?" Deirdre said quickly.

"How bad was it?" David asked.

"What on Earth's that smell?" Carol added, crinkling her nose and glancing around the room.

"It's Lily," Anne provided, feeling again the difficulty breathing and the clamping of Lily's legs into her ribs. "She found Monica in the bathroom, her screaming woke the entire neighborhood. She wet herself and I can't - I can't get her off ..."

She heard herself rambling quickly as the pain became too much, and thankfully they saw her desperation and in a flash David had moved to help.

"Come on, Lil'," he said, moving to grab her small arms from around Anne's neck. "Give her a breather ..."

David and Deirdre took one arm each, with Carol unhooking Lily's legs, and between the four of them they managed to forcibly pull her away.

"Jesus," Carol said, kneeling down affectionately in front of her great niece and looking at her wet pyjamas. "You had a fright, didn't you, darlin'? Let's find you some dry clothes, eh?"

Anne felt immensely grateful as Carol picked up Lily and without fuss carried her upstairs. After a slight hesitation and a promise to be back in a second, David followed her, taking Nathan with him. Anne did not need to trail after them - Carol had raised five kids of her own. But as the pressure was released from her arms after twenty minutes of having Lily's weight clamped on her, she almost stumbled toward Deirdre, and put a hand on her shoulder to steady her balance as she took a deep breath, rejoicing in the full use of her lungs.

"You all right?" Deirdre asked, arm around her waist.

Anne automatically made her way to the sink, where she leaned over, gripping the bench with both hands to try to stem the waves of pain and budding nausea.

She felt Deirdre's hand on her back. "Are you hurt?"

All of a sudden, without knowing where it came from, the nausea flew up her throat and she lurched forward to vomit into the stainless steel sink. Visions of Monica's bloody wrist flashed through her mind.

"It's okay," Deirdre said, now gripping her tight and reaching to switch the taps on full blast. "It's all right ..."

She tore off a sheet of paper towel and wet it under the running water, dabbing at Anne's hot forehead and cheeks as the nausea passed and she stood up a little.

For a moment she stood in silence, catching her breath as her chest enjoyed the freedom of expansion and contraction. But there remained a throbbing ache in both her sides where Lily's knees had been. She rubbed the spot with her hand, trying to smoothe the pain.

"Are you hurt?" Deirdre asked again, eyes narrowed with concern.

"Just sore," Anne said.

"Let's take a look."

Deirdre was lifting up her pyjama top before Anne had found the words to protest, but after glancing at the stairs and seeing the others weren't in sight, she looked down and peeked with interest at the two long red marks either side of her ribs. She touched one and found it hurt.

"You should ice them," Deirdre said.

"Later," Anne said.

She had just spotted Christi rounding the top of the stairs and hastily pulled her top back down, not wanting her daughter to see. Deirdre gave her a look but did not comment.

"So tell me what happened," Deirdre said, quickly slipping back into her professional role. "What did Lily see?"

"She found Monica in the bath," Christi filled in. "She was screaming non-stop for several minutes. We all woke, ran over here, called an ambulance straightaway ..."

"There was a bit of blood," Anne added. "Lily was terrified. When she eventually stopped screaming she clung to me and wouldn't let go."

"A classic anxiety reaction," Deirdre said, and sighed depressively.

"You can help her though, right?" Christi asked.

Deirdre seemed to hesitate. "Let me take a look at her."

A few minutes later Carol and David emerged carrying Lily down the stairs, dressed for now in an old grey t-shirt of John's which served as a nightie. But as Anne joined everyone at the sofa and Deirdre sat down and pulled the child into her lap, she saw that Lily still looked petrified, her eyes large and anxious, her small hands clasping hard at anyone within reach. Anne sat down next to them and tried to put a comforting arm around her granddaughter's shaking body.

"She's scared out of her wits," Carol said, looking frightened herself. David looked grim.

"I know," Deirdre said, her voice soft and pleasant like a fairytale as she studied the child in her lap. "You had a fright, didn't you? Seeing your Mommy like that ..."

Lily's large, scared eyes locked onto Deirdre.

"But, you know, your Mommy's gonna be all right now. She's gone to the hospital where a nice nurse will clean that up for her, just like your Mommy cleaned your knee when you fell over the other week. And you'll have her back good as new in no time."

As she talked Deirdre peered professionally into her eyes, felt her pulse, and traced her warm hands over Lily's rigid body.

"Go get a blanket," she said to Christi, and Christi hurried back upstairs, quickly returning with the purple bedpsread from Lily's room that had teddy bears printed on it.

"We need to get her to calm down," Deirdre said to them, opening the doona and bundling Lily into it, complete with legs, arms and feet. "You wrap her up snug in it," Deirdre explained, "it makes her feel cosy and safe, like being back in the womb."

Lily did not protest as Deirdre tucked her in, then cuddled her close.

"Hold her firm, not slack, you're her protector, she needs to feel safe, regain the sense of security she's just lost."

Anne nodded along, feeling worried as she watched Lily's fearful face.

"And turn off the lights," she added. "Switch on a lamp instead."

Christi obeyed, switching off the kitchen and living room lights and turning on a small lamp beside the couch they were sitting on. A soft, glow bathed the corner of the room. It was almost like sitting in candlelight in a power outage.

"Now, Lily," Deirdre said seriously, cuddling her tight, "I want you to listen to me. I know you're a smart girl, like your Mom, and that you're going to try your best to understand what I tell you. I know what you saw. I know how scary it was, and how terrified you feel right now. But your Mom's going to be all right, I want you to know that. I know the blood is scary, seeing your Mom upset is scary, but it's all going to be all right. Those nice people at the hospital will take care of her, and she may be gone a few days while they make her better, but in the meantime you have all of us, and we're all right here for you. And you don't need to be afraid. It'll be just like when Nathan was born, and while your Mom was away for a few days you stayed with Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder, and Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Christi ... and then your Mom came back smiling, all happy and radiant, and she gave you a big hug and a kiss and told you how much she loved you. Because you know she does love you. So, so much. So it's all going to be fine. But if in the meantime you feel scared, or if you remember what you saw and feel bad, scared and upset, you just stick with us. We're right here to cuddle you."

At that moment Deirdre's cell phone rang. Anne got up to answer it and with a heavy feeling of dread saw it was John.

"Deirdre's phone," she answered.

"Mom?" He sounded puzzled and as if he was speaking through tears. "Deirdre's with you?"

"Yeah, she's here," Anne supplied. Then, trying to tear her eyes away from Lily's terror-stricken face, added, "She's just seeing to some things. How's Monica?"

"They're cleanin' her up," he said, and she thanked her lucky stars that he was too wrecked to question her further. "They reckon she's gonna be fine. Was just a scratch, not deep. They're gonna keep her a while, though, do a psychiatric examination. Rest a few days, they said."

The skeptical note in his voice was evident, and in the background Anne heard Scully say comfortingly, "She'll be fine ..."

"Look, I know it's hard, but just sit tight," Anne said. "It's probably exactly what she needs, a few days' rest with some expert care. Then hopefully we can nip this in the bud and prevent it happening again. If we all remain calm and supportive she'll pull through. Just relax and take one moment at a time. And look after Dana and Mulder."

She heard him sniff a little, wipe his eyes.

"How's Lil'?" he asked suddenly.

Anne looked across the room at the frightened bundle in Deirdre's arms, Christi sitting next to them and stroking her niece's hair lovingly.

"She's fine," Anne lied. "We've got her."

"Tell her I love her," he said quickly. "Look, I gotta go. Doc's comin'."

"All right. I love you."

"Love you too."

Her heart warmed at the sentiment, but it evaporated as soon as she raised her eyes to her family.

"'She's _fine_?'" David repeated.

"Boy are you gonna cop it when he gets home," Carol joked.

"Shouldn't be for a few hours yet," Anne reasoned. "She'll be fine by then."

She sat back down to help with comforting Lily, and await the arrival of Jenny and Brian while her heart still twisted with worry over Monica, but it wasn't until days later and the benefit of hindsight that she saw there had been significance to Deirdre's silence.

XXX

The following hour passed slower than any other Anne had ever lived. Lily sat silent and terrified in the soft glow of the room, and was passed from one set of arms to another as everyone wanted a turn cuddling her, but it did little good. She had stopped trembling, her muscles relaxed and her pulse slowed to a normal pace again, but she was resolutely silent and her eyes wide. It wasn't long before Deirdre had become visibly restless, standing up and pacing the room, deep in thought. Anne had watched her as she had checked her phone messages, poured herself a glass of water, and stared out the dark window at the night street outside. Conversation in the room was minimal, and small talk insufficient to quell everyone's anxieties as they watched Lily's open terror which they remained helpless to remove from her, and thought of Monica at the hospital, and John, Mulder and Scully who were no doubt falling to pieces fretting about her.

The silence was only significantly broken when Jenny and Brian at last arrived. Even in the middle of the night Jenny wore a flowing skirt and white blouse, entering the house with a soft expression that enabled Anne to see right through into her pure soul. It was Deirdre who filled them in on what had happened, and Jenny, her heart visibly breaking, went straight over to Lily, gave her a long kiss on the forehead, and then moved her from Christi's lap into her own. Jenny adored children, and it was the cruellest act that she had only been able to have one of her own.

"I wish there was something we could do for her," Christi said sadly, fingers trailing miserably through Lily's hair. "Take it all away."

It was at this point that Anne spotted the look in Deirdre's eyes, pausing to stare at the scene with strained sorrow in her blue eyes.

"Are you all right?" Anne asked softly.

"I'm going to duck home," she announced suddenly, reaching immediately for her keys, phone and wallet. "Pack a bag."

"Can't you go later?" Carol asked, puzzled.

"You can borrow some of my clothes," Anne offered. "There's no rush."

But Deirdre was already buttoning her coat over her pyjamas, and gave them a pleasant smile which Anne knew was fake.

"We won't be long," Deirdre said.

Brian looked up. "We?"

"You're coming with me," she said to Anne. She nodded to Anne's bare feet and flimsy pyjamas. "You'd better grab some shoes and a coat."

XXX

It was fifteen minutes later that Anne found herself standing in Deirdre's bedroom, and still none the wiser as to why she had brought along and detached from her granddaughter and the rest of the family at the hospital. Deirdre had been silent and stressed for the entire drive, and though the roads were empty she seemed strained, her knuckles white as she gripped the wheel and her eyes darting in all directions. When they arrived at her bedroom, Anne had moved automatically to the cupboard in which she knew Deirdre's overnight bag was kept, but her sister hurried instead to her desk and began rifling through the top drawer, emerging after a chaotic clutter with a handful of business cards bound together with a thick rubber band.

"Look, you know I trust you," Anne said, trying her best to remain patient, "but I'd appreciate it if you could not leave me in suspense for the _entire _night."

Deirdre merely flicked off the rubber band and began sorting through the cards. All appeared to be contacts associated with her work as a psychologist.

Anne sighed and turned around, leaning against the desk and becoming suddenly aware of how little sleep she'd had. Her body felt exhausted, her mind weary.

At last Deirdre settled for a few cards, and put the rest back in the drawer.

"Come sit down," she said, taking Anne's elbow and leading her to the double bed.

Anne obediently sat down, awaiting an explanation.

"I'm going to tell you something," Deirdre said, taking Anne's hand firmly in hers. "You're not going to enjoy hearing it, but I want you to be the first to know. Because when the others get home in an hour or two I'm going to need your help, and I want you to prepare yourself."

The words did not alarm Anne half as much as the tender way in which Deirdre was holding her hand.

"Just say it," Anne said, unable to bear the strain any longer. "Whatever it is."

"She's mute."

There was a second of silence, and Anne wondered if her tired brain had heard right.

"I'm sure of it," Deirdre finished sadly.

"Mute?" Anne repeated. The word sounded strange on her tongue.

"Trauma-induced muteness," Deirdre explained. "It's not unheard of in kids her age. In fact it's quite well-documented. Kids or babies who experience or witness a terrifying event - it's essentially an anxiety disorder which consumes them. They become afraid of everything; people they don't know, situations they aren't familiar with. And they're often physically unable to speak when in those situations. She may be fine at home, but not out of her comfort zone. Time will tell."

Anne stood up, needing to move to shake off the dark cloud that was gathering within her.

"It's only been an hour," she reasoned. "You can't diagnose her yet."

"She hasn't uttered a word or made a single noise since she stopped screaming," Deirdre pointed out. "And I think that combined with her desperate clinging is evidence enough. Those bruises below your ribs aren't the mark of a healthy child."

Anne tried to mentally throw off her sister's comments, but they would not budge. The simple fact that was that Deirdre was one of the best in her field, and had an instinctive understanding of Post-Traumatic Stress and Anxiety Disorders which had made her the cornerstone of the survivors' recoveries over the past four years. At the same time she found the thought of Lily being mute overwhelming, and she found the past few years of her life flash before her in a slideshow of agony: Luke, Canada, the endless daily battle of PTSD ... how much more would she have to endure?

Deirdre stood up and slid a comforting arm around her trembling shoulders. Anne wiped away a hot tear.

"I thought of taking her to hospital but there's little they can do. There's medication which may alleviate her anxiety, but the end result will be the same. And many doctors will have second thoughts about prescribing it to such a young child. Not to mention the fact that strictly speaking John and Monica are her legal guardians, and only they can authorise medical treatment for her. I thought of Dana, but even if I could pry her away from the hospital she's certainly in no condition to be treating anyone right now. So right now we'll just have to sit tight till morning, and then I'll ring around to some experts I know - some psychiatrists who specialise in paediatrics, and may have encountered this type of thing before. You know I don't have any experience with kids."

Anne tried to collect herself. She took a deep breath.

"I'll tell the others when we get back. But if you need to cry, do it now. Because when we get back you may not get another chance."

Anne leaned into Deirdre as she wiped away the few stray tears. She took another deep breath as Deirdre held her.

"It'll be all right," Deirdre said. "I'm here, Carol's here, Jenny's here, and David and Brian ... and we're all here for you all. We'll work together and make it better. All right?"

And Anne nodded. Twice before she had entrusted her sanity to Deirdre's protection, and both times Deirdre had pulled everyone through. But all the same her heart broke wondering how much more pain her family would have to endure, and thought of poor Lily, trapped in a world of paralysing fear.

XXX

After four long hours in the hospital waiting room, Scully, along with John, Mulder, Jack and Charlie, conceded that there was nothing more they could do by remaining there. Monica's cuts had been fixed, and she had then been moved to the psychiatric ward, where they had been informed she would be shifted to a specialised psychiatric hospital in the morning. Scully knew the local facility as Hillside, as she had heard about it from Deirdre who had several times before during the troughs of their illnesses suggested they take "time out" there. It was a small, bright and friendly, with nurses and doctors on hand, and Monica would have a private room. Part of her hated that Monica would be forced to go there, yet as far as these recovery hospitals went, it was the best, and she was eager for Monica to engage with the services to make a recovery, rather than leave them to endure her periodic self-harm tendencies for years to come. No, the step had to be taken now.

It was at the first hint of dawn that they drove home, the sky purple on the eastern horizon as they pulled up into their street. It had been a hellish night. John had barely taken a break from crying at the entire four hours at the hospital, and Mulder had been wet-eyed and silent, saying repeatedly that they should have taken her straight to hospital earlier in the evening. Scully's practical advice that they would certainly do that next time did not ease their regrets. But she, too, felt strained beyond capacity, and it was only Charlie's strong arm around her shoulders that had kept her relatively grounded. Even so, she had suffered several small anxiety attacks, which continued to plague her daily, and even more so during these times of stress. The only up side to these attacks was that the entire family was used to them now, and they did not hesitate to hold her close and coach her breathing until they subsided.

The surprises started when they saw Jenny, Carol and Deirdre's cars all parked out the front.

"Looks like we got company," John said, looking puzzled.

"We left 'em with five kids under four and no sleep," Jack said. "Three in diapers, two of them breastfeeding babies. Of course they're gonna need help."

This quelled some of Scully's worry, yet at the same time she could not help wondering what would be so bad that Anne would phone Jenny. Deirdre definitely, as she was a very close part of their family and knew from Anne's phone call with John that she had been notified immediately. And whilst Carol and Jenny were also close family, and frequently over anyway, the fact remained that Carol lived only 15 minutes away, but Jenny and Brian a whole hour. It did not stack up in Scully's mind that Anne would go to the trouble of hauling out Jenny and Brian for the simple sake of helping with a diaper change or a feed.

With an ominous feeling heavy in her already somersaulting stomach, she followed the family inside, her fingers linked with Mulder's. A glance into his eyes told her that he, too, did not entirely believe Jack's reasoning.

"Hey," John said, trying to muster a brave face through his wet cheeks as he dropped his keys with a clatter on the kitchen bench.

"Hey," Christi said, giving him a grim smile.

At first glance, the scene was perhaps of domestic bliss: Anne, Christi, Deirdre, Jenny, Carol, Brian and David were all sitting on the lounge suite, Anne's feet up on the coffee table amongst a collection of dirty coffee mugs. Half of them were still in their pyjamas, and though they looked distressed and exhausted by the night's events, they were coping. But as Scully's eyes caught Lily - wrapped up in her purple bedspread in Jenny's loving arms, she quickly erased her first impression, and in its wake noticed other tell-tale signs: Deirdre's arm around Anne's exhausted form, an open box of headache tablets on the coffee table, discarded balls of used tissues, and Deirdre's bulging overnight bag at their feet.

Yet with all these thoughts flying through Scully's mind in two seconds flat, the thought of Catherine still managed to slip in, and she noticed there was no sign of the other four kids.

Charlie got in first. "Kids okay?"

"All asleep upstairs," Carol replied. "Except this one."

Her fingers fondly touched Lily's hair as she snuggled into Jenny's chest.

"How's Monica?" Anne asked.

"They wouldn't let us see her," Mulder said heavily.

"She's being moved to Hillside," Scully added. "They said it'll be midday at least before we can talk to her. After -"

But she broke off as John threw her an incredulous look of disbelief at their easy conversation, and moved with a puzzled expression toward his daughter.

Deirdre immediately withdrew her arm from her sister and sprang to her feet. "John, sit down."

"What's the matter with her?" he asked, moving quickly past Deirdre and crouching down beside Jenny. Lily did not turn to look at him; her face was still buried between the purple doona and Jenny's chest.

Scully moved to join them, eyes on Lily's still form.

"Hey," John said, with a note of forced cheeriness, touching his daughter's back through the doona. "Lil ..."

"John, don't -"

Christi had tried to reach for her brother, but it was too late. The effect of John's touch was instantaneous: Lily tensed like ice and her arms shot around Jenny's thin frame, locking herself onto her. Her eyes were wide and utterly terrified as Scully stared in astonishment.

Deirdre grasped his arm. "John, come sit down."

Renewed tears were in John's eyes. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Carol said, also reaching for him. "She's just upset."

"You said she was fine."

John turned with an accusatory look toward his mother. Scully saw Anne appeared utterly drained and had no patience for a fight. She calmly stared back at him.

Deirdre tugged gently on his arm. "John, sit down -"

"You lied to me?!"

Jenny gasped as Lily gripped even tighter.

"Calm down -"

"I sure as hell won't calm down!" John shouted. "My own daughter's catatonic - seven of you here - not one of you thought to let me know?"

"SIT DOWN!"

It was not Deirdre who spoke this time but David. Strongly built and six foot tall, he shot to his feet.

"You've had a shit night, John, but so have all of us," he said flatly. "So just sit your aggressive ass down and bring it down a notch, because none of us are in the mood."

John stared. He threw another irritated look to his mother.

"Your mother's done all she can and more and got herself bruised like a punching bag trying to help," David went on. "So just sit down, _calm down_, and we'll discuss what's happened in a rational manner which doesn't involve ripping

her to any more pieces than she's already in."

For a moment Scully thought John would lose his temper completely, possibly bolt from the room and back to the car, but Scully reached out for his wrist and grasped it softly.

"John ..."

He met her eyes, and his expression softened. With a sigh he cast depressed eyes on his daughter and then let Deirdre and Christi lead him to a seat. Jack sat himself on Anne's armrest and put his arm around her.

Scully shed her coat and took David's place beside Jenny, putting a gentle hand to Lily's hair. Lily did not shy away from her as she had from John, but she looked rigidly terrified. Jenny held her tight and kissed her.

Scully sighed. "She's been like this since we left?"

"Not a word," Deirdre said. "She won't let anyone go."

Scully could feel Deirdre's anxiety as she tried to examine the little girl. She slipped her fingers around Lily's small wrist and found her pulse was normal. Similarly her temperature was normal. With a sinking feeling she knew the reaction was entirely psychiatric, and understood the significance of her not saying a word, even though it appeared Mulder and John hadn't.

"Hi," Scully said to Lily, touching her cheek. "You feeling scared, huh? A little frightened?"

She had not expected Lily to answer, but the eye contact she established was enough, as Lily's blue eyes found her.

"It doesn't explain why she won't come near me," John said, still a little edgy.

"You shouted at her," Mulder said. "In the bathroom you yelled at her to get out."

John looked stricken. "But I didn't mean ..."

But inside, Scully felt her own fears amplify as she knew Lily was unlikely to embrace Monica, either. Suffering from an ongoing anxiety disorder herself, Scully understood Lily's behaviour. She had been petrified upon finding Monica in the bath cutting herself, had wet her pants and screamed, and when her Daddy arrived he had only yelled at her ... it was no wonder she was rejecting him.

"Have you given her anything?"

"I'm not qualified to," Deirdre said.

Scully nodded. "Someone go get my medication."

"I'll go," Anne said quietly, and quickly left the room to go next door.

Scully immediately saw the family exchanging looks, and the moment Anne had closed the door behind her Carol started on John.

"You shouldn't have opened your trap, John," she said. "She's a wreck."

John was already looking ashamed of himself, and said nothing.

"Where's she hurt?" Scully asked.

"Sides of her ribs," Deirdre said. "Lily was clinging to her so tight she could barely breathe. We had to pry her off when we got here. Anne was sick, vomited in the kitchen sink."

Suddenly a lot more worried, Scully got her feet just as Anne returned with the box of medication. Scully headed her off in the kitchen, taking the box from her hands and throwing it across the room to Mulder, who caught it with a single hand.

"Give her a quarter of a tablet, crush it, and sprinkle it on some crushed banana to get her to swallow it."

"Gotcha," he replied.

Meanwhile Scully took Anne's elbow and let her into the privacy of Monica and John's walk-in pantry.

"I'm all right," Anne said, voice trembling. Despite her words she looked ready to break down any moment.

"Let me look."

Anne sighed and unbuttoned her satin pyjama top. She was not wearing a bra underneath, but Scully was only interested in the bruises either side of her rib cage, and knelt down a little for a closer look, lightly touching her fingers to the long red streaks, which were already starting to darken. It was hard to believe the marks had been made by a two and a half year old girl, and reinforced for Scully the seriousness of what they were all facing.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little," Anne admitted. "When you touch it, or when I move the wrong way."

But Scully still felt concerned over her vomiting, and made Anne keep still as she continued to probe her way down over her internal organs, checking for any additional damage. But Anne did not flinch or gasp in pain, and Scully was left to conclude the vomiting had simply been a psychological symptom.

"I want you to put some ice on it," Scully said.

"I'm okay," Anne repeated, and she sighed as she rebuttoned her top. "It's just Monica, and Lily ..."

"I know," Scully said, squeezing her arm. "But I'm here now and I'm going to help."

"She's mute, you know. Lily."

"I know," Scully said, nodding. "Don't worry. Just take a deep breath."

It was a minute later, once Anne had pulled herself together, that they headed back in with the rest of the family. John stood in the kitchen, looking anxious and apologetic, a makeshift ice pack in his hands which he handed with a guilty look to his mother.

"Thanks," she said.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said heavily. "I shouldn't have said it. I just -"

"I know," Anne finished. "Bad night."

He nodded, and after a moment they hugged briefly, Anne kissing him on the cheek. They had simply been through far too much in their lives to hold grudges.

"Come sit down," Scully said, leading them both back to the couch, where Jack slipped the ice pack under his wife's top, holding it there for her and kissing her affectionately on the temple as she leaned against him.

Scully sat down with John. Mulder had taken the spot next to Lily, and had the empty spoon from the banana and medication in his hand. He kissed Lily's hair and watching it, Scully felt her own heart warm with love for him.

"All right," Scully said, clasping her hands together. "Here's what's going to happen. First of all, Monica is going to be okay. It's frustrating that there's nothing we can do, but right now she's in the best possible place. I think she needs to face these self-harm tendencies once and for all, and at Hillside she'll have the help to enable to her to do that. We can go back after lunch to visit her, but until then it's out of our hands. The best thing we can do for her is to make sure that everything is smooth here."

"Do we tell her about Lily?" Deirdre asked. She had filled in Mulder and John about Lily's mute behaviour when Scully had been attending to Anne.

"No," Mulder interjected. "Not until she's ready. She's in no shape to deal with that now."

"I'll look after Lily," Scully said.

John raised his teary eyes to her, looking dejected.

"She's two years old," Scully explained. "She doesn't have the menatal capacity to manage her emotions in the way that we do, and the worst possible thing you can do is to invalidate her feelings. It may not be rational to you or me, but that doesn't help Lily. You need to give her unconditional love; love her and support her in spite of how she may be feeling toward you right now."

"She'll come around," Mulder said. "Give her your understanding, and in time she won't even remember any of this."

John nodded, trying to pull himself together.

"She can come stay with us," Scully said. "I'll take good care of her."

"I'll make some phone calls in an hour or two," Deirdre said, checking her watch. It was only 7AM. "We'll get her checked by a paediatric psychiatrist. She'll probably need a speech pathologist, too."

John took another deep breath and nodded. He had absorbed a lot in the last four hours.

Suddenly there was a sound of crying, and Christi looked at the baby monitor on the table.

"That's Nathe," John said, knowing his son's cry.

He headed upstairs to attend to his baby son, and Scully went to sit beside Jenny and take Lily from her, inserting her into her own lap to fulfil her role as substitute mother.

XXX

For Scully, the morning flew by so fast she barely had time to think. The most prominent thing on her mind was responsibility for Lily. When she had been born, Monica and John had named Scully and Mulder her guardians in the event of their death. And though both of them were very much alive, they were both currently unable to care for her, and so she underook her duty to her goddaughter seriously, treating her as her own daughter. She took some key items from Lily's room and moved them next door to set her up a temporary bedroom until things healed, including several toys, her pillow, lamp, clothes and purple doona. Then she got her dressed, brushed her hair, before ducking up the street to the local toy shop and returning with a large floppy purple rabbit, with ears as long as its body.

"I bought you something," Scully had explained to her, holding Lily in her lap. She handed the bag to Lily, but Lily seemed to have no curiosity for what was inside, and simply leaned against Scully with a depressed look.

"His name's Purple Rabbit," Scully went on, pulling the soft toy from the bag and putting it in Lily's arms. "He's yours."

She watched as Lily picked up the rabbit with her spare arm, and after touching its ears and feeling how soft and cuddly they were, she looped her arm around its neck and cuddled it to her in a headlock.

"I know you're feeling sad right now," Scully said gently, "and that there's a hurt inside you which you can't get rid of. But you know that's okay. And when you feel sad, or upset, or even a little cranky, I want you to just hold Purple Rabbit. He'll always be there for you. Just like I am."

Scully wasn't sure if Lily had absorbed any of her words, yet the fact that she had accepted the rabbit and already showed signs of not wanting to let it go was better than she had hoped for. The rabbit had been a hunch of Scully's, a device both to comfort her, and to give her something to cling to other than the rib cages of the various family members. It was a strategy she had read about in the management of autistic children, and had hoped it would prove just as useful for Lily. So with that in mind, she had dashed down to the toy shop and amongst the dozens of shelves packed with toys had selected the softest and cuddliest animal she could find, and in Lily's favourite colour - purple - which dominated her wardrobe and bedroom.

"You wanna show your Daddy?" Scully asked, pointing up at John nearby.

John had spent an hour in a bedroom with Deirdre, sorting through his thoughts, and had emerged with a determination to keep a positive outlook. Scully had suggested that until Lily's shock began to ease a little, it was probably best he did not touch her. But he smiled pleasantly and crouched down beside them to admire the rabbit.

"It doesn't breed, right?" he joked.

"Do you like it?" Scully asked her.

Lily did not answer, but her fingers stroked the rabbit's long, soft ears. And unbelieveably, she then peered up at Scully with a shy smile.

"I'll settle for that," John said, looking relieved.

Lily carried Purple Rabbit around with her religiously for the next few hours. Even when Scully had taken her to the bathroom Lily had been unwilling to let it go, cuddling it to her chest whilst she did her business. All in all, the scheme had been more successful than she could have ever hoped for.

The visit after lunch to Hillside, where Monica was staying, also went fairly well. They found her in her single room, with a fairly nice window looking down onto the green gardens, and sitting up in bed in a hospital gown and a guilty, though somewhat depressed, expression.

"Hey," Scully had said, entering first with John and Mulder. The rest of the family had chosen to give them ten minutes alone first, always aware of the intense bond the four had, and willing to give it space.

"Hi," Monica replied. The depressed look vanished as the four took turns hugging her tight, each of them showering her in kisses.

"How you feelin'?" John asked, sitting down beside her and grasping her hand tight. "That snowman still lurkin' about, or did ya give him a beatin'?"

Monica gave a non-committal shrug. Then, after an awkward moment, she added, "I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"We know," Mulder said. "It's okay."

"I know you didn't plan for it to happen," Scully said. "Sometimes these things just do. It all becomes too much. Overwhelming."

"Yeah."

There was another awkward moment.

"Does it hurt much?" John asked, indicating her wrist.

"No," she said, looking as if she'd almost forgotten about it already. "Not the wrist."

"But it does mentally," Mulder finished for her.

Monica nodded. "Yeah."

"Did you speak about it with the doctors?"

"A little."

Scully studied her friend with a doctor's eye. She seemed relieved to see them, but she was also guarded, nervous, and still emotionally unstable. There was nothing in her face to indicate she had released everything she had been holding in, and she seriously doubted as to whether Monica had told her treaters anything other than a skeleton medical history.

Scully sighed. "A little doesn't cut it, Monica."

"This is the second time," John added.

"It's different," Monica argued. "It's not like last time. I wasn't trying to end it."

"Maybe it'd help to explain to us what you were trying to do," Mulder said. "Help us to understand."

He leaned against her bedside cabinet with a casual look, arms folded as though he was at leisure and had all day to wait for her to reply.

There was a long pause in which Monica looked between the three of them, and after seemingly deciding there was no weak link amongst them, she sighed and some of her guard dropped.

"It helps," she said, in the softest voice.

"It helps?" Scully repeated.

"The cutting," Monica added.

"It helps to slice your arm up like you're carvin' a roast?" John asked skeptically.

Mulder, however, took sympathy on her and sat down beside Scully. "You mean it's a release. It feels good. To express your pain."

Monica nodded. Mulder reached for her hand and squeezed in understanding.

"Well it sure as hell doesn't feel good for us," John said heavily. "You can't make us go through this every time you hit a slump. You gotta get past it. And if not for us than for the kids. Lily especially."

Scully shot him a look - she did not want Monica to know yet about Lily's state, and they had all agreed they would not tell her until she was not quite so vulnerable. But Monica caught the look in his eyes and her own immediately widened with fear.

"What do you mean?" she demanded quickly.

"John," Scully said, grabbing his arm to silence him.

John ignored her. "You know she found you last night, right?"

"Well, yeah, but ..." Monica paused. "You took care of her? She's all right?"

Scully gripped his arm tighter. "_John_."

"What are you keeping from me?" Monica demanded, turning to give a hard look at Scully and Mulder.

"Do you remember her screaming? Wettin' herself?" John went on.

Monica stared, vaguely shaking her head. Scully was not surprised; Monica had been quite out of it by that stage.

Realising it was too late now to keep it from her, Scully gently took both her shoulders and steered her to look directly at her.

"Monica, she had a reaction. You can call it what you like - shock, anxiety, terror - but she has not said a word since, is rejecting John's company, and spent the best part of the morning with her arms desperately locked around my middle."

Monica still shook her head in confusion, but one part of the sentence seemed to catch.

"She's not talking?"

"Mute," Mulder said gently, holding her hand tight. "She's mute."

Monica had flung back the bed covers before anyone could grab her, and made a dash for the door.

Mulder had to run to catch her, grabbing her upper arm and hospital gown just in time. The gown flew up revealing Monica's behind, and even in that split second Scully had to surpress a smile as John's eyes automatically found their target.

"You can't leave."

"You're involuntarily committed, Monica," Scully said firmly, grabbing her arm. "You're not at liberty to just walk out."

Monica swung around. "I don't care. If Lily needs me -"

"Yes, she does," Scully said firmly, pushing the door closed with a thud. "_Stable_, _healthy_, and not semi-conscious carving out tattoos in the family bathtub."

Monica's mouth fell closed.

"She may recover this time," Scully continued. "With a lot of help and a large dose of time. But if you want your daughter to grow up healthy and happy you can't ever let this happen again."

Monica looked winded, and Mulder, Scully and John led her back to the bed, where they sat her down.

"But you know there's hope," Mulder said to her. "If you use this place, actively participate in your healing. And if that means having to bare your soul to the psychiatrist here, let them see and hear about every wound, then do it. You're strong enough."

John knelt down in front of her, seizing both of her hands with love. "She needs ya. You _gotta _come back, stronger than you were before."

Monica sank, burying her head in her hands.

"Talk to your doctors, Monica," Scully said. "You have to just let it all out. No matter how hard that might be. _Talk _to them about your desire to harm yourself, how it makes you feel, how much you love Lily and Nathan ..."

Monica lifted her head. She had tears in her eyes.

"I'd rather talk to you."

"Then talk," Scully said, nearly crying in desperation herself. "We're right here. We always were."

XXX

The initial intention of the family had been for Mulder, Scully and John to have ten minutes alone with Monica before they joined them, but the trio had ended up staying two hours - until Monica's doctor had come to talk with her and they had been forced to say their goodbyes. Monica - motivated by her fierce desire to get back home and help Lily - had poured her heart out to them, and Scully had listened in tears as Monica described in agonising detail the feeling of cutting herself, the sense of release, the feel and texture of the blood, and the sense that the demons in her mind somehow evaporated with the act, leaving her with a sense of inner peace. They had covered again the events of the mountains, running over the bloodied snow, the frozen bodies, the blizzards and the hopelessness. The remarkable thing was that by the end of two hours crying to them, Monica had looked a lot better. Scully knew Monica well, and understood that she had unparalleled strength when provided with the right motivation. It had been her, after all, who had forced them to hike out of the mountains to safety when they had wanted to curl up and die in the cold. And now, with the goal of her daughter desperately in need and counting on her recovery, Monica had gone from weary and spiritless to her brown eyes full of determination, like the headstrong FBI agent they had once known. Scully had left the building tired, but relieved, and returned home late in the afternoon to resume care of Lily.

Jenny and Carol, along with their respective husbands, had been forced to leave that morning for work, though they had called throughout the day to check in on how things were going. Deirdre had stayed with them, but now she had called in the experts, and when Scully walked into Anne and Jack's house it was to find a skinny woman with wild grey hair and glasses talking quietly with the adults in the kitchen.

"Dana, Mulder, this is Dr. Eliza Saunders," Deirdre introduced. "She's a paediatric psychiatrist who's come to assess Lily. Eliza, this is Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and John Doggett."

Deirdre pointed them each out in turn, and Scully shook her hand. She was glad when Eliza did not stare at them with fascination like most strangers did.

"Thanks for coming," Scully said.

"Not a problem," Dr. Saunders said. "I've seen quite a few of these cases, though admittedly none quite like yours."

"Is that good or bad?" John asked.

"We'll see," Dr. Saunders said. "For the moment Deirdre's just been filling me in on what happened last night."

"Do you need to examine her?" Scully asked. She glanced over into the living room, where Lily had found a pair of willing arms in Jack - who was holding her as he watched an old black and white western on television.

"She doesn't trust me yet," Dr. Saunders said. "She's been giving me a wary eye and a wide berth since I arrived. For the moment I'd like to just observe her behaviour from a distance. Deirdre's kindly invited me to stay for dinner. It's important you all treat me like an old trusted family friend. Call me 'Eliza', not 'Doctor', etc."

"That's the plan?" John asked, at his wits' end since the exhausting session with Monica. "Eat, drink and be merry?"

"Well _we_ will," Anne said, joining them from where she'd been making coffee. "Maybe you should go get some rest. Take a nap."

John ignored the suggestion, but took the hint and fell silent.

"Just carry on as you normally would," Dr. Saunders said. "Pay no special attention to me."

Scully suddenly felt a small hand on her backside and turned around to see Catherine smiling hopefully up at her. Her heart immediately softening, she turned around and leaned down give her niece a cuddle and a kiss. Catherine had been trying since the previous night to get her attention, and between Monica and Lily Scully hadn't had the chance to give her any.

"Will you come look at my castle?"

"Absolutely," Scully said brightly. "I've love to see your castle."

She followed Catherine over to a corner of the room that was littered with toys, and saw a castle made out of coloured blocks standing at least four feet high, with several towers, a ring around the base that could only be a moat, and a drawbridge.

"Wow," Scully said, quite honestly. "You've been busy. That's incredible."

"It has four towers," Catherine explained, beaming at Scully's praise, "and you can climb right up to the top. And you can see all the way out to the hills. And it has a drawbridge, and a moat, and that's where the baddies drown."

"And where's the prince?" Mulder asked, looking amused as Scully's heart swelled with pride at niece's imagination and focus. "Shouldn't there be a prince?"

"You don't _need _a prince," Catherine argued, looking at Mulder as though he was ignorant and stupid. "Princes in castles are the product of _neanderthal _minds that can't cope with equality and the _complexities _of human nature and attraction. It's a _stereotype_."

Scully bit her lip and fought to keep a straight face as Mulder looked stunned.

"Neanderthal minds?" Mulder repeated. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Aunt Dana," Catherine said proudly, putting her arms around her and climbing into Scully's lap.

Mulder turned to give her a mock look. "That was you?"

Scully struggled and failed to bite back her smile.

"Well I have to say I disagree with that," Christi said, who was also struggling not to grin. "Personally I love a good prince. And a good tower."

"Especially one constructed by a Scully, right?" Charlie asked, grinning as his meaning was plain.

"Can we turn off the vulgarity please?" Scully asked.

"What's vulgarity?" Catherine asked innocently.

"It means your Dad's being naughty," Christi said. Then added with a straight face, "But don't worry, I'll punish him later."

The next two hours passed in normal fashion, the only exception being Lily, who spent most of it in Scully's lap, even when they all settled down for dinner. Lily seemed a lot calmer, but was still clinging to Purple Rabbit everywhere she went and had still not said a word. Dr. Saunders, whilst she chatted with the adults in the family as though they had known each other for thirty years and not two hours, watched Lily all evening out of the corner of her eye, including her body language, her tight grip on Purple Rabbit, and her degree of interaction with each member of the family.

After all the dishes had been gathered and Chloe and Catherine were back playing in the corner, Dr. Saunders turned seriously to all the adults gathered in the kitchen, cleaning up.

She looked to Deirdre. "I want to do an experiment. I want someone to pick her up, carry her over to where the other girls are playing, and set her down with them. Then walk back to us calmly. No one's to look at her or pay her any special attention. I want to see what she does."

Deirdre volunteered, and followed the instructions, picking up Lily and setting her down in the play area beside Catherine before turning to walk calmly back to the family in the kitchen.

It was hard not to watch, and Scully did out of her peripheral vision as she rinsed a mug. But she had not expected the painful sight that followed: Lily stood for a moment utterly bewildered as to why she had been placed there. Her fearful blue eyes looked to Catherine beside her, to Chloe playing with some toys, and then she turned around and stared at the distant adults in the kitchen - most of whom were obeying Dr. Saunders and trying not to look. For a moment she stood, clearly in distress, staring at them. Her eyes flicked fearfully between Dr. Saunders and John, clearly debating whether she could reach the safety of someone's arms whilst dodging these dangerous people, and then she bolted - her small legs running over with Purple Rabbit dangling from her hand as she ran towards the safest female in the room - Anne. She wrapped her arms around Anne's thigh, and as Anne turned to hold her, nestled her face in her groin.

Scully let out a held breath. Dr. Saunders didn't look at all surprised.

A few minutes later, when Mulder volunteered to take Lily for a play in order to allow them time to talk, Dr. Saunders filled them in.

"Well I'm going to concur with your diagnosis," she told Deirdre. "She's not only mute in the strict definition of it, but is highly anxious. I mean, to the point where she's not even comfortable being across the room from you, that's clearly abnormal. You represent safety and security, and so she clings to you, from one to the next."

"What do we do?" Christi asked.

"Well I'll write a prescription for something which should bring down her anxiety, as well as some antidepressants. Give her half a tablet of each, twice a day with food. I'm afraid though that other than that it may just be a question of time. She's clearly had a huge upheaval with what happened last night. Maybe she'll improve when her Mom returns and things fall back into their normal pattern. But regardless, I think one way or another she'll settle in time. The more pressing problem is her refusal to talk."

"We can't force her to talk," Scully said. "In fact I imagine there's every chance she won't as long as she's feeling this scared."

"You have to remember, though, that the majority of mute children aren't silent around the clock. Usually they can be quite talkative, even normal, in the security of their own home and family. It's only when they encounter strangers or unfamiliar situations that they become mute. And I'm afraid it's beyond Lily's control, too. Some researchers suggest that these kids are so afraid they physically can't speak. But nearly all of them grow out of it in time, and with appropriate treatment. The most important thing for you all to do is to keep encouraging her to talk. A lot of people get used to the child being silent, and don't require them to interact anymore. So it's vital that you keep asking her questions, invite her to respond. It may even help to do it on a one-on-one basis, if one of you might try sitting down alone with her and playing for an hour, try to make her comfortable enough to get her talking. Until you reach that stage where she can interact with at least one of you, there might be very little a speech pathologist can do to help."

"But you said the medication should help right?" John asked. "If it takes away even a bit of what she's feeling, might loosen her up."

"It should," Dr. Saunders said, nodding. "We'll put her on a trial for two weeks. In the meantime, like I said, try interacting with her one-on-one, use a private bedroom where there's no one else in sight. Somewhere she's familiar with and feels safe. Even something like reading to her in bed at night, snuggle in, encourage her to talk and interact with you and the story."

"We can do that," Anne agreed.

"But what about her clinging?" Jack asked.

"She's seeking comfort and it's important that you give it to her. You have to be available to her, even though it may be slightly annoying or inconvenient to have her latched on, every hug you give her is reinforcing her sense of safety, which she's actively trying to rebuild. So whatever you do, don't push her away. In fact I'd make sure that one of you is always around and available to reinforce it. Even at night, wherever she's sleeping I'd perhaps ensure that she understands where you are, perhaps even leave some lights on so she can see, doors open so she can find you easily. It might even help to stay with her until she falls asleep."

There was a pause as the family tried to absorb and remember all this advice.

"How did Monica take it when you told her?"

John shrugged. "She's climbin' the walls tryin' to get out."

"Well that's an good sign," Dr. Saunders said. "All the same I think I'll drop in for a word. She needs to be ready for what she's going to face here. Because even if everything goes to plan this isn't something you're going to heal in one night, or even a few weeks. Trauma-induced muteness in a child this young can be a long process and a lot of hard work. She's going to need ongoing treatment from a speech pathologist, and we need to have that well established and on track long before she begins school - which will come around sooner than you think. In the meantime, with your permission, I'd like to keep coming around regularly. It's vital she gets to used to me, and when she does I'll be in a much better position to treat her directly." She paused for breath. "Any questions?"

"No, I think that's okay," Scully said, speaking for the group. "At least enough to think about for one night."

Dr. Saunders nodded. "Then let me write you a script."

XXX

Before Monica's night of self-harm, Scully's life had been extremely busy, but now with the added responsibility of Lily, it was close to impossible. During the day she had work at the Medical School, and Lily was cared for by the family, but during the evening and night she was solely Scully and Mulder's responsibility. She stuck to the advice of Dr. Saunders, and every evening after work spent an hour playing with Lily in her living room, taking an active interest in her toys and constructions, always talking to her and inviting her to answer. Lily was yet to say a word, yet she was clearly starting to relax with Scully's consistent attention. After two weeks of this treatment she no longer needed to be in her lap, but played up to a few feet away, though she would still not tolerate Scully leaving the room. However she was smiling more, whether because of the medication she was on or Scully's efforts was unknown, but the progress was encouraging all the same. Bath time every evening was also more difficult, firstly because Lily refused to surrender Purple Rabbit, and Scully had to perch Purple Rabbit on the soap tray while Scully washed her. Then, after accompanying her to use the toilet before bedtime, either her or Mulder would snuggle up in bed and read to her, always careful to ask her opinion on the story or characters, seeking a verbal response. It became clear early on that Mulder was the star storyteller, as he did all the voices and absurb facial expressions, as well as inventing words and sentences to give the stories more humour. Scully's storytelling skills were clearly lacking in Lily's eyes. So within a week Mulder had the storytelling responsibility, and John - who often peeked around the door - started smiling at his daughter's smiles and obvious happiness. And every night Lily fell asleep in Mulder's arms, and he would carefully lay her down with a goodnight kiss.

Dr. Saunders came around for dinner every few nights, observing Lily's progress and enabling Lily to get used to her presence in the family. And now, two weeks on, Lily was walking past her without fear, and the doctor was pleased with this development. It also turned out that Dr. Saunders, as a paediatric psychiatrist, had an enormous talent with kids, and one of her methods in gaining Lily's trust was to play with Catherine, Chloe, and the two baby boys, fully aware that Lily was watching from across the room with a look of jealousy. Seeing this, Scully had seized the opportunity to take Lily over and sit with her while they joined the fun, and Lily now played with Dr. Saunders on the play rug, even though she would not talk to her, and preferred one of the family adults to be close nearby for safety.

Lily's relationship with John was also on the up. Though she was sleeping in the spare room at Scully and Mulder's house, she was no longer clamming up at his presence, or watching him warily as he came and went from the room. John's efforts to remain positive in the face of her rejection had worked, and her defences were rapidly collapsing. Once already Lily had drifted in to the kitchen for a cuddle before realising the legs she was hugging were her Dad's, and John had practically beamed as he hugged her in return. She was also allowing him to kiss her, though she preferred to not be picked up, as she freely allowed Scully to do. But John was happy, as his nightmares of having Lily's rejection end up being a permanent arrangement were unfounded.

Monica was also improving. After hearing what happened to Lily and opening up to the survivors about her feelings, she had improved, and was itching to get out of the place. Yet the doctors had decided not to give her the all clear just yet, eager to ensure the recovery would be permanent and stable, and not a tactic for Monica to get out of there as quickly as possible, only to relapse. So they had decreed a three week stay, which Deirdre thought reasonable, and Monica was two thirds of the way through. Dr. Saunders was also visiting her to keep her informed of Lily's progress, and it was these reports that Monica clung to in her determination to get out and be of some help to her distressed daughter.

But the biggest development, these two weeks later, was when Scully was doing yet another session of playing with Lily on the rug, alone, with the rest of the family next door. Lily had a circle of soft toys around her, of which Purple Rabbit was the most important, and was engaging in a tea party with a plastic picnic basket and cups and saucers that she had gotten the previous Christmas. Scully, as a feminist, did not usually care for the play-based imitation preparing her for life as a domestic housewife, yet in the face of Lily's illness she played along.

"I think Purple Rabbit wants some more, don't you?" Scully asked, pretending to look into an empty cup. "He's thirsty today ..."

Scully took the plastic jug and pretended to pour some more water as Lily watched, cross-legged next to her.

"What's the matter?" Scully asked, realising Lily was staring at her.

Lily opened and closed her mouth, attempting to speak. She twisted a hand anxiously through her brown hair.

Scully rubbed her small back. "You can speak to me. You know I love you."

Not wanting to make her anxious, Scully continued to pretend to pour more water for the various soft toys at the exclusive party.

It was then that she felt a tug on her suit.

Lily's voice was tiny. "Aunt Dana?"

Scully forced herself to react calmly and naturally, though inside her heart leapt with relief and a sudden desire to run next door and spread the news.

"What is it?"

"I -" Lily paused and started again, hand still in her hair. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Well I think we can do that."

And Scully took her hand and led her upstairs, the weight in her heart lifting as she knew the most important hurdle had been cleared.

XXX

After the breakthrough of Lily's first words, the following week - the last week of Monica's stay at Hillside - passed far easier. Monica was over the moon hearing that Lily had spoken to Scully, and it made her even more eager to get home to encourage this recovery. Lily spoke now in front of Scully, always with a soft nervous voice, and only when no one else was around. A day later, Mulder reported that she had spoken to him during the bedtime story, and one day further, Anne and Deirdre had had the same luck. But she remained quiet and silent within crowds, and her words were generally confined to the one-on-one times with various family members. Nevertheless, she was improving in interaction even if only in body language. Though she nodded or shook her head instead of saying 'Yes' or 'No', and pointed to people and toys rather than struggle to voice her thoughts, it was nevertheless communication, and Dr. Saunders had seized on this to begin working on Lily's traumatic memories of what had happened that night.

The therapy was somewhat play-based, and completed in the cosy comfort of Scully's living room, which was the room where Lily had begun to feel most at ease and started speaking to Scully. Scully sat with Lily on the purple teddybear doona, Lily clutching Purple Rabbit tight as Dr. Saunders sat opposite with a smile and a handful of picture cards.

"Lily, I'm going to show you some pictures," Dr. Saunders said, "and if any of them make you a little upset, anxious or sad, or even angry, I want you to just point at the card."

Scully watched as Dr. Saunders slowly began laying out the cards, one by one. All of them were photos, either of people in the family, toys Lily played with, or rooms in the four houses the family owned, and Dr. Saunders laid them out in a grid. First came a photo of Anne, then one of Lily's old brown teddybear, the kitchen in Christi and Charlie's house, baby Nathan, Uncle Mulder, Purple Rabbit, the plastic cubbyhouse in Christi and Charlie's living room, Aunt Deirdre ... Lily watched them all with a content expression until Dr. Saunders turned over one of the bathroom in which Monica had been found.

Scully felt Lily tense in her arms. Her small hands gripped Purple Rabbit tighter.

"It's okay," Scully soothed, kissing her hair.

"Does that one make you feel bad?" Dr. Saunders asked.

Lily did not answer. She was staring silently at the card.

"Does it make you feel bad?" Scully repeated.

Lily nodded.

"That's good," Dr. Saunders said, patting her small knee encouragingly. "I thought it might. You know it makes your Aunt Dana feel bad too."

Lily peered up at her, and Scully nodded, quickly reinforcing the feeling that Lily was not alone in her feelings.

"Let's do some more."

Dr. Saunders continued turning over cards, and Scully recognised herself, Christi, a colourful toy piano, Anne and Jack's pool, the park up the road ...

Lily lurched forward and pointed to the park.

"The park?" Scully asked, surprised.

But Lily did not answer Scully's surprise, and after a moment Dr. Saunders picked up the card and put it down with the one of Monica and John's bathroom, making a pile of the cards Lily reacted to.

On and on it went, through various rooms of the four houses, the remaining family members, and nearly every toy Lily played with, as well as several of places outside in the street, or up the road at the local shops. But all of the cards Lily recognised, and after several minutes Dr. Saunders had amassed a pile of those Lily had pointed to, or else tensed at when she saw. Scully had been glad that she had not reacted to the photo of John, however she had to the one of Monica, as well as Monica and John's living room, the mailbox outside, the local supermarket, and every photo of the bathrooms in each of their houses. By the end of it, Scully had realised the pattern: Lily was afraid of anything outside the security of the home, afraid of Monica, and afraid of bathrooms.

The session did not last long; Lily's only being two years old restricted her attention span, and Dr. Saunders decided that going through the cards and understanding what they revealed had been enough for the first time. Later, she confessed to Scully that they had a lot of work to do, and first on the long list was Monica.

XXX

It was a beautiful Saturday in October when John brought Monica home, beaming from ear to ear as she walked into Anne and Jack's house.

"Hey..!"

Anne led the rush to embrace her, and although Monica enthusiastically complied, especially as Catherine and Chloe joined the cuddles, her eyes were on Scully across the room.

Monica's return had been carefully planned, both by her doctors at Hillside - where she still had to report once a week - and by Deirdre, Dr. Saunders, and the rest of the family. Monica had been fully briefed on every detail of Lily's condition, so the sight of her playing in the toy area with Scully did not alarm her, and Monica instead threw a dazzling smile at her small daughter, even as Lily climbed fearfully into Scully's arms and buried her face into her neck.

"You wanna welcome back your Mommy?" Scully asked, trying to peer into Lily's buried face.

But Lily gripped tighter. Monica, to her enormous credit, mouthed, "It's okay", and threw Scully a wink.

Scully did not force Lily to face Monica before she was ready, thinking to herself that as with John, the best possible strategy was to get her used to Monica being around again, and allow her to see that Monica was happy and healthy. But Monica, however, thanks to three weeks at Hillside, had had plenty of time to analyse the situation and hatch a plan, and instead of anxiously watching from across the room, had returned not only with a twinkle in her eye and a wide smile, but with a battle plan.

The first part of Monica's strategy was that she was joyful. She cracked jokes, laughed, was physically affectionate with everyone, and all the while remained carefully in clear sight of Lily's silent gaze. After only five minutes of this, Lily's grip on Scully had slackened, and she had lifted her head to watch her Mommy and ponder this abrupt change from the suicidal version she had last seen. Monica, pretending not to notice Lily eyeing her, then implemented the next phase of her strategy, which was to drown the other kids in love and attention. She kissed Nathan all over, grinning from ear to ear, admired how Lachlan had grown and his cute looks, picked up Chloe and held her prominently in her arms - smothering her in kisses, and then rounded it off by going to play with Chloe and Catherine on the other side of the room, in clear view of Lily.

Scully had to admire Monica's sly intellect, as within the following fifteen minutes Lily was ignoring the toys around her, ignoring even Scully, and was rooted to the spot staring at her mother as she fussed over the other two girls and kissed and cuddled them no end. Scully had to hold in her smile as she watched Lily stare with jealousy, and saw Anne, Deirdre and Christi were all smiling to themselves in the kitchen, as they pretended not to watch.

"You wanna join in?" John asked, as he came to their side.

Lily did not answer. She was watching Monica give Chloe another peck on the cheek.

"I'll stay with you," Scully offered. "You can hold onto me."

Lily looked unsure, but Scully gently picked her up, and keeping her secure in her arms, walked her over to where Monica and the girls were playing. Monica paid no attention as they walked over, praising Catherine's latest tower of blocks and claiming she was going to make a great engineer.

"Let's sit down and watch, hmm?" Scully suggested, lowering herself to the floor and pulling Lily back in her lap.

Monica turned and gave her daughter a dazzling smile. "Hey, gorgeous!"

Lily gripped Purple Rabbit tighter, but she did not run away.

"I've missed you," Monica said adoringly. She kissed her own fingers and then reached to gently press the kiss to Lily's cheek. "Mommy's been sick. But I'm back now."

"She's been a lucky girl," John said, crouching down beside them. "Been stayin' with Aunt Dana."

"Wow," Monica said, faking awe as she pretended not to already know this. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

Lily did not answer.

"You wanna play with us?" Monica asked, holding out a coloured block to add to Catherine's tower.

"Catherine doesn't mind," John added.

"Lily can play," Catherine said importantly, as she reached up high to place a green block on end. "But Aunt Dana can't."

"Why not Aunt Dana?" Mulder asked, who up until now had been leaning against the wall, studying the interaction.

"Because she's a bitch," Catherine replied.

"HEY!" Christi's head immediately flew up. "We do _not _talk like that."

"But -"

"Laundry," Christi said. "_Now_."

Catherine marched off, treading her anger into the carpet with every step, and leaving Scully to wonder whether she'd heard right, even though she was sure she had, as her heart broke with a gaping hole in her chest. She felt winded.

"Where did that come from?" Monica asked, equally stunned.

"I've no idea," Christi replied, and threw down the towel she'd been holding. "But I'm going to find out."

XXX

Christi followed her daughter to the laundry, but as this was just down a narrow passageway from the kitchen, even with a closed door the family could hear every word. Scully, still feeling gutted, found herself following subconsciously to the kitchen and then gazing down the empty hallway to the closed laundry door, where she could hear Catherine in floods of noisy tears. She could sense the rest of the family standing around her, pots and dishes now idle in their hands, but her heart broke at the sound of Catherine's tears, echoing around the silent kitchen of eavesdroppers.

"... She doesn't care!" Catherine wailed.

"Your Aunt Dana loves you very much," Christi said calmly, voice slightly muffled by the closed door. "You know that."

There was another wail of words punctured by crying. "All she does is play with Lily!"

"I know," Christi said sympathetically. "But honey, we talked about this. Lily's really sick. She's going to need some extra attention for a while, that's all. And Aunt Dana's a doctor, she's trying to help her. And if that means that she's not as available to the rest of us for a while, we just have to do our best to be patient, all right? She's doing the best she can."

Scully caught a glimpse of Monica standing next to her, tears in her eyes.

"This is all my fault," Monica said suddenly.

Scully heard her speak as a distant whisper, and it wasn't until she felt Mulder's hand on her shoulder that she realised Monica had spoken. She tore her attention away from the laundry as Catherine dissolved into more tears. She blinked as she realised she was crying herself.

"Things just happen, Monica," Jack said. "End of story."

"You wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for me," Monica said, looking to Scully with her insistent brown eyes. "If I hadn't done what I did, you never would have had to take Lily, never hurt Catherine, and Lily would never ..."

She drifted off in pain and swallowed as she caught sight of her daughter, who had snuck into the kitchen and attached herself affectionately to Deirdre's legs, Purple Rabbit still tight in her small arms.

"How much for the rabbit?"

Scully looked up.

"The rabbit," Monica reiterated, looking annoyed that she was so slow on the uptake. "How much did you pay?"

"Forget it," Scully said. "It's nothing."

"Dana, it's my mistake and I'm taking responsibility for it. Now how much?"

Monica's eyes were determined, and Scully knew it was pointless to argue.

"Twenty dollars," she answered. "But you don't owe me anything. I was glad to do it."

"And how many hours have you spent caring for her?" Monica went on.

"What, you gonna pay her wages?" John asked. "Compensation?"

"I have a right to know," Monica said firmly.

"No, you don't," Scully said, equally firm. "She's my niece. You asked me to take care of her if ever you couldn't, and that's what I did. And I would have done it anyway. As my own."

Her heart softened as she saw Lily had now crept behind Anne's legs, and Anne was grinning as Lily nuzzled the back of her thigh.

Monica opened her mouth to argue further was cut off as Christi re-entered the room with Catherine's hand in hers. Catherine's face was wet and red from crying, and she rubbed her eyes with her hand as she looked thoroughly depressed.

"What do you have to say?" Christi said pointedly, stopping in front of Scully.

"I'm sorry," Catherine said miserably.

"For?" Charlie asked, giving his daughter a rare stern gaze.

"Using bad words," Catherine finished, before looking back down at her shoes.

Scully crouched down, eye-to-eye with her niece. In the deepest corner of her heart, she could admit to herself that Catherine was her favourite. She adored all the kids, yet with Catherine she saw herself. Not only did she look the same as Scully had as a child, but had the same inquisitive, intellectual mind, and idolised Scully as much as Scully had idolised her own father. She tucked a strand of Catherine's red hair behind her ear and wiped away a few of her tears.

"I'm sorry too," Scully confessed. "I haven't been there for you lately." She took a deep breath, feeling how much that statement ached. "It's not that I haven't wanted to be. I've just been so busy. It's been so hard."

She avoided the family's eyes as she said this, feeling at once the weariness of the past few weeks.

"But," Scully went on, adopting a positive note, "I was thinking that maybe when things calm down a bit, you and I could do something together. Maybe you could even come over and stay the night, watch a movie, have a bit of a sleepover. Would that be all right?"

Catherine was already grinning with excitement, and she instinctively looked up at Christi for permission.

"That's fine with me," Christi said brightly.

"But in the meantime," Scully said, "perhaps if you ask your Mom nicely, she might let us go up the park for an hour."

Catherine's grin brightened even further. Her eyes were large and hopeful as she looked up at Christi.

"Go on, then," Christi said, unable to keep a straight face.

Catherine flew around to the living room to grab her shoes.

"You shouldn't reward her for swearing at you," Jack said critically.

"It's my fault, not hers," Scully said. Catherine was the oldest of the five kids, yet she was still only three years old herself, and sometimes this was hard to remember. But looking back on the last few weeks, Scully knew that every one of Catherine's criticisms were justified. She had barely spent five minutes with her niece, and that kind of inconsistency was damaging.

"And will you push me on the swings?" Catherine bellowed out as she struggled with her shoes.

"As high as they go," Scully replied.

"And will you -" She paused as she came back to the kitchen, one sneaker askew. Christi bent down to fix it for her. "And will you tell me about gavity again?"

"Gravity," Scully corrected. "I will if you like."

"That was always first on my list whenever I went to the park," John said, nearly rolling his eyes in disbelief. "Inner workings of gravity."

Monica had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, and as Scully went to round up Catherine she saw Lily staring in wonder at Monica's happy face from behind Anne's thigh.

XXX

It was past midnight when Scully woke, lying on her side staring into Mulder's bare back as the moonlight shone on his skin. She was so comfortable it did not make sense that she was awake, and on this thought she rolled over to look at the digital clock, but was met instead with a different sight - Lily.

She was standing silently next to the bed, purple rabbit held tight to the front of her small pyjamas. Scully immediately wondered how long she had been standing there, watching them sleep.

"Hey," Scully said gently, sliding out of bed. "Are you okay?"

Lily remained silent.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?"

Scully gathered her into her arms as she sat on the edge of the mattress. She felt it shift as Mulder woke up, then again as he sat up next to her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, holding her small hand. "Not those bedbugs again, huh?"

Lily did not crack a smile, and instead leant her head against Scully's shoulder. Scully held her tighter.

"It's okay. It's okay ..."

For a moment they both tried to comfort her, but Mulder's dark eyes were filled with concern as he watched Lily sit silently in Scully's arms.

"Can you try to talk to me?" she asked the small girl. "Tell me what's wrong?"

Lily gripped purple rabbit tight.

"Even a few words," Mulder suggested.

"Do you need the bathroom?" Scully asked. Lily's fear of bathrooms had improved over the last few weeks, yet she still did not go alone and with her condition, was usually unable to ask for help. The family were left to guess, and there had been a few near accidents.

"Mommy," Lily said softly.

Scully smiled with surprise and relief.

"You want your Mommy?" Scully asked.

She glanced at the clock. It read 2:06am.

"She'll be up," Mulder said.

It was not rare for the survivors to venture into each other's houses in the middle of the night. It was the night when the memories came the most, when the world was silent and the mind empty of the clutter which occupied them during the daytime. And in these times they woke each other, sat with each other, had midnight snacks in their pyjamas or underwear, or sat outside with coffee and watched the sun rise. Yet now Scully knew Monica would especially not mind being woken, not when Lily was showing interest in her again.

A minute later they were next door, Scully carrying Lily with Purple Rabbit slung over her shoulder. Mulder opened John and Monica's back door with his key, but it was not to find the house in darkness. The lamp in the living room was on, and the pair were on the sofa, John's arm around Monica's shoulders, her bare feet up on the coffee table and a worried look on her face. Dirty mugs were at their feet, and Scully wondered if they had even yet made it to bed.

"Hey," John said, brightening as they let themselves in.

Monica turned around. Her depressed eyes immediately found her daughter and she smiled with a mother's love.

"She couldn't sleep," Mulder explained, as the two made their way over to the sofa.

"She asked for you," Scully told Monica.

With Mulder's help, Scully managed to sit down without having to let go of Lily. Lily did not loosen her grip on Scully's torso, but she turned her head and gazed at her parents. She was wide awake.

"One Mommy as ordered," Mulder said, sitting down on the coffee table at Monica's feet.

"You wanna say 'hi'?" Scully prompted.

Lily was staring at Monica, and Monica was smiling back in hopeful adoration.

"Hey, Baby," she said, and gently reached out to take her daughter's hand, gauging her reaction.

Lily gripped Purple Rabbit tight, but she did not pull away. Scully kissed her hair to reassure her.

"How about you sit with your Mom a while? We'll be right here ..."

Knowing Lily was not going to bolt was enough, as she had clearly requested Monica's presence, and this had obviously been plaguing her mind since Monica's obvious game-playing earlier in the night, when she had deliberately set out to prove to her small daughter that she was happy, and made Lily jealous by playing with Chloe and Catherine. Scully moved her carefully into Monica's lap. She could see the conflicting emotions of fear and powerful love whirring away in Lily's silent gaze.

"Hey Gorgeous," Monica said, beaming as she couldn't help herself. John smiled next to her, watching the scene. "I've missed you like you wouldn't believe."

"Don't close your arms," Mulder said softly, reaching to stop Monica's arms completely circling Lily's waist. Lily had an anxiety disorder, and to be locked into someone's arms would only aggravate it, unless there was a small gap in which Lily felt safe to escape if necessary.

Monica obeyed, but cuddled her daughter close all the same.

"I love you _so _much ..."

She showered Lily in kisses, over her hair, temple and forehead. Lily's eyes, which had been huge upon the initial move, were now a little more relaxed. It was almost as if she was back where she had belonged, and now she was there, she could not remember the reason or source of her fear.

"You wanna try speakin' to us?" John asked, trying to hold her as well. "Even just one word? I'll even settle for a swear word, if you wanna take after your cousin."

Lily was silent, but Monica was beaming from ear to ear all the same.

"That'll come," Scully said comfortingly, still holding Lily's hand and giving it a squeeze. "Give it time."

"Don't worry, Baby," Monica said lovingly to her daughter. "You just stay with me, and I'll look after everything. You won't have to be afraid."

"We'll make it all better," John promised. "As if it never happened."

Lily's small fingers gripped Monica's pyjama top.

"And who's this?" Monica asked, touching Purple Rabbit's ears. "You wanna introduce me..?"

Scully got up to fetch herself a drink. Knowing Lily felt safe with her in sight, she did not dare leave the house yet, and knew it would be a few hours before she went back next door. But Lily was already relaxing in Monica's arms, snuggling in as if for the first rest she had truly had in three weeks. And though it was only the beginning, Scully smiled to herself as a weight lifted inside and she knew instinctively it would be all right.

XXX

THREE YEARS LATER

"You girls comin'?" John called.

Scully stood with John, Mulder, and John and Monica's three year old son Nathan in the kitchen of their house, waiting for Lily and Monica to come down from upstairs. It was Lily's first day of school, and she would be starting with Chloe, who was in the same class. Scully had taken the morning off work to go with them and ensure an easy transition for Lily into her first day. It had been a long three years since Lily was first diagnosed. It had been a full month after Monica's incident before Lily had uttered a word to her, and a further three weeks before Scully and Mulder had been able to safely move her back home into her own bedroom, and clean up the spare room she had been using in the interim. Dr. Saunders had worked extensively with her thereafter, mostly in play therapy for the first year after the incident. Monica had religiously participated in every session, always determined to help Lily heal and undo the damage she had done. And for the three years after the incident, John and Monica drove Lily into the city every week to visit the speech pathologist, Dr. Cassar. It had been a slow process, but Lily had gradually become comfortable in speaking to the entire family, starting off in small sentences and then two years later, full chatty conversation, to which Mulder, delighted, had christened her Miss Chatterbox. The remaining year of her treatment had focused on allievating the anxiety that overcame Lily when faced with strangers. Dr. Cassar had eased her into these situations, beginning with having his secretary slip into the suite to fetch something while Lily was chatting with them, and then ever so slowly moving up to speaking in public places. And now, on her first day of school, Scully reflected that there was nothing more they could have done to prepare her for this moment.

"How do we look?"

They looked up to see Monica beaming as she came down the stairs with Lily, who was dressed in her brand new Catholic school uniform, which had a blue dress and a blazer, and to top it off Monica had braided her brown hair and put a ribbon at the end.

"You look beautiful," Scully told Lily, as she entered the kitchen with a nervous smile on her face. "All grown up."

John did not say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes as he saw his daughter before him. She looked like a neat little lady now, her perfect posture and gold locket necklace somehow managing to betray the family's wealth as effectively as if she had a dollar sign engraved on her forehead. She had a smidgent of class, and in John's eyes there was clearly pride and affection, but also a little piece of sadness, as though his little girl was growing up too fast.

"Speechless?" Mulder teased.

"You look perfect," he told Lily, and bent down to peck her on the cheek. Lily beamed.

The back door crashed open, and in zoomed Chloe, who was also in her brand new uniform, minus the blazer, and with her fluffy blonde hair flying around as she ran into the room. A second later Christi hurried in after her, with the exapserated look of having chased her from next door. She had the blazer over her arm, and a hair brush and hair tie in her hand.

"Stand still," Christi said, finally catching her and working to pull Chloe's hair up into a ponytail. Chloe scrunched up her nose, looking irritated, but Christi held her still.

"Clo!" Charlie called, entering in after them with a new schoolbag in his hand and Lachlan, who was three, trotting after him. "If you're going to school, you have to remember to take your bag. Don't forget it."

"I don't wanna go to school!" Chloe complained. "It's _boring_."

"You haven't even tried it yet," Christi said. "Give it a chance."

"It's not boring," Catherine said, wandering in and heading straight for Scully. Catherine had attended the school for a year now, and had already excelled well beyond Christi's expectations. She had been placed in the gifted and talented program, and amongst many additional skills the program taught she was learning chess, debating, and an extended course in literature. As she put her schoolbag on the kitchen floor, her white program folder bulged out the top of it, stuffed with extended work. When word of the program had first reached Christi and Charlie's ears, via a meeting with the teacher, they had both hesitated. Charlie did not want to push his daughter, wishing her childhood to be full of fun and not homework, and Christi, unable to relate to the feeling whatsoever, had claimed it was all out of her league, and asked Scully and Mulder's opinion. Scully, after reading through the material and speaking with Catherine on one of their monthly sleepovers, had encouraged her to give it a try, on the proviso that she could drop out at anytime. Catherine, encouraged by Scully's attention and pride, had thrown herself into it. An added incentive was the fact that Scully allocated special time to give her on-one-one help with her homework, sessions which Charlie had labelled "Brain Gym with Aunt Dana". It was these sessions alone with her Aunt that Catherine clung to, along with the special sleepover at her house, which occurred once a month. And it was not merely for the love between the two that they did it, but also because the family knew that Scully could extend Catherine's intellectual abilities where the rest of the family couldn't.

Scully kissed Catherine's red hair as she put her arm around her. Catherine was looking particularly important today, having been charged with the task of looking after Chloe and Lily at school. Though Lily did not know it, Catherine was under special instruction to keep an eye on Lily, and to find the teacher if she spotted her looking at all distressed or anxious in the playground, or to simply play with her if she was alone.

"Wow," came Anne's voice. "Deja Vu."

She entered the room with Jack, smiling at the look of the nervous smiles on Lily and Chloe's faces.

"You look just like your Mom did on her first day of school," Anne continued, looking to Chloe. "Absolutely gorgeous."

Chloe grinned. She was young, but not stupid, and had already figured out that to look like her mother was the ultimate compliment. Christi, after giving birth to three kids, still had a figure that was as slim and stunning as it had ever been, and after six years of marriage Charlie still worshipped the ground she walked on, frequently telling her he was the luckiest man on Earth.

"And what do you think of Lil?" John asked proudly, eager that his own child should not miss out on the compliments.

"You look like a lady," Anne said, bending to kiss her on the forehead. "And I _love _the hair ..."

"Took them half an hour," Mulder said, his voice betraying the boring wait the remainder of them had endured in the kitchen.

"And worth every second," Jack said generously, hugging his granddaughter. "Just remember - no boys till you're at least eighteen."

This comment went over Lily's head, but she smiled at his affection nonetheless.

"Anyway," John said, "Take this."

He grabbed the lunch he had prepared for Lily and moved to add it to her schoolbag. On top of the bag was Purple Rabbit, who would be going with Lily to school, providing her with a sense of safety. Though she was vastly healed, her anxiety remained in sitautions of lots of strangers, and school certainly qualified. But they were nevertheless confident that she would be fine. She had Chloe in the same class - the two naturally best friends - and the family had had a meeting with the teacher and principal a week before, outlining her condition. They had also requested that no one bothered the kids about the survivors' histories. They did not want the girls to inherit the story and be potentially teased because of it, and there was also the fact that it upset Lily to hear about it, her condition making her extra sensitive to Monica's past. She loved her mother happy and healthy, and Monica obliged her, all four of them ensuring that when they had their sad moments, Lily had no chance of stumbling in on them.

"Photo time!" Christi called, beckoning the two young girls. "Come over here."

Lily and Chloe followed Christi across the room for a First Day photo, and in the kitchen Scully smiled to herself, watching the scene.

"It's hard to believe it's the same girl," she said.

"She looks happy," Mulder added. "You know, I think she'll be fine."

"Course she will," John added proudly.

There was a pause as Monica alone remained silent.

"Monica?" Scully prompted.

"I just can't get over how beautiful she looks," Monica confessed, tears in her eyes. "Inside and out."

"They're all lookers," Jack said, running his hand affectionately through Catherine's red hair. "We're gonna have every boy in the neighborhood swarming like locusts in a few years' time."

Monica nodded, but it had not been what she had meant.

"But she's happy," Monica added, a grin splitting across her face. "There's barely a trace of it in her."

"We told you once she wouldn't even remember," Scully reflected. "And I think that's becoming true."

Lily had been two and a half when it had all happened, and yet she did not remember it now, just as she did not remember half her early sessions with Dr. Saunders and Dr. Cassar. It was as if Lily possessed the anxiety without understanding why, found comfort in Purple Rabbit without knowing why, and was now looking ahead to her future instead of being tied down in its past. And the evidence of was in her radiance of happiness, her blue eyes smiling as she had her arm around Chloe's shoulders and Christi hit the flash.

"I'd hope there's barely a trace of it left in you, either," Anne added.

"Not of that," Monica said.

Scully did not feel like going back to the mountains that morning - she felt simply too happy and content where she was without dredging it all up again. And luckily, Monica wanted to forget it for a few hours too. She had Lily back, she had Nathan, who was also growing up fast, and they had all come through, and the dark clouds that had shadowed Lily's last few years were finally breaking up under a powerful radiant sun.

"It's all going to be okay," Monica added.

Scully nodded. "Personally, I never doubted it for a moment."


	2. The Ghost of Luke

Melting Hearts - Domestic Bliss

CHAPTER TWO - THE GHOST OF LUKE

"Uncle Mulder."

"That's my name!"

It was summer break and the three girls walked into Mulder and Scully's living room, in from the suffocating Atlanta heat outside. Lily and Chloe were both ten years old now, and had not changed much. Chloe, whose fluffy blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, wore a white singlet top practically glued to her with sweat and denim shorts which emphasised her young perfect legs, while Lily wore a print sarong, also a singlet top, along with a handful of the expensive jewellery Monica lavished on her - including a pretty anklet, her usual gold locket Monica had given her for her third birthday, and a classy watch. Catherine, now eleven, wore knee-length jeans a white top with short sleeves, her long red hair for once tied back into a ponytail. They appeared to nearly sigh with relief as they entered the cool of Mulder and Scully's living room, where the airconditioner whirred away in the corner. Mulder, wearing a singlet and boxers, was lying half dead on the couch, chewing on sunflower seeds as he watched television, while Scully sat at the desk in the corner, working on her laptop.

"What's up?" Mulder asked them.

"Can we go up the street to get a slurpee?" Chloe asked.

"What's your Mom say?" Scully asked.

"They're out," Catherine answered. "They went grocery shopping half an hour ago."

"Well I don't see why not," Mulder said, trying to lean over and reach the coffee table for his wallet without having to sit up. He extracted a note and handed it to Chloe. "Just the two blocks, right? No twists or turns or stopping for strangers."

"We'll go straight there and back," Lily promised.

"Put on some sunblock," Scully said, looking to Chloe and Catherine, who both had pale skin. "Or else you'll burn to a crisp out there."

"Where are the boys?" Mulder asked.

"Next door on the computer," Lily replied.

"And take this," Scully said, handing her cell phone to Catherine. "Just in case."

"In case of what?" Chloe asked, looking puzzled.

"Just take it," Scully said, too hot to argue. "Put it in your pocket."

Catherine shrugged and did as she was told, and then the three headed to the door, ignoring Scully's warning about sunblock.

Mulder lifted his head to see over the armrest. "Hey!"

Lily paused. "Yeah?"

"Bring back one for us."

XXX

Only fifteen minutes later Christi and Charlie returned, arms full with endless bags of groceries, and Scully wandered over, both to socialise and to give them a hand unpacking. As she put away a box of cereal Nathan and Lachlan entered, both eight years old, Lachlan with blonde hair and pale skin already slightly pink from the sun, and Nathan with a basketball under his arm.

"Did you buy anything cold?" Lachlan asked, wandering over to inspect the bags.

Christi grinned as she whipped out a box of icypoles and handed them to the boys.

"Take one each and put the rest back in the freezer before they melt," she said. "It must be about two hundred degrees outside."

"Thanks," Lachlan said, as he took the box and tore one open before inserting over half of it straight into his mouth and holding it there looking absurd as he used his hands to throw the box unceremoniously back into the freezer.

"Next time you're gonna do that, warn us first so we can get a picture," Charlie laughed, as he put away some milk.

Lachlan shrugged and the two boys wandered over to the sofa, flopping down like starfish in front of the television.

"Where are the girls?" Christi asked.

"They went to buy slurpees," Scully answered.

Christi paused with a handful of bananas halfway out the bag. "By themselves?"

"They're fine. It's only two blocks and they have my cell phone."

But Christi's wide eyes drifted to the lone photo of Luke framed on the wall, and she gripped the edge of the bench as though about to collapse.

"Dana," she said softly, so the boys couldn't overhear, "A lot happens in two blocks."

"A lot of _fun_," Charlie said, taking her shoulders gently in his hands. "They're growing up. You have to cut them some slack. You know Dana and I used to cover half of San Diego by ourselves when we were kids. We were away hours at time. You have a much bigger chance of one of them having a brain aneurysm than of all three of them being attacked in a group on a busy public road."

Christi did not look convinced, but she made a small effort to calm herself, and she glanced across at Nathan and Lachlan, not wanting to pursue the subject in front of them.

At that moment the side door slid open, and John came charging in, Monica a few feet behind looking as though she had tried to stop him and failed.

"_John _-"

He stopped at the bench and looked all around him, scanning the rooms. Then he choked out the words, "They're out there alone?"

"Yes," Scully said. She was enormously sympathetic to Luke's death and the scars were to be expected in the Doggett family members, but it was unfair on the three girls all the same. "And they're _fine_."

She was saved as they heard the front door crashing open and girls laughing as straws plunged through ice.

"See?" she said, giving him a look.

He nodded with relief, and bit back his fear just as Catherine and Lily came into the room, all smiles.

"Here," Catherine said, handing Scully the requested slurpee and her cell phone.

But Christi and John were inclining their heads to glance down the hallway behind them.

"Where's Clo?" John asked.

"She said she'd be back in a minute," Lily explained.

Christi stared. "What?"

Catherine, who had been focused on her slurpee, now eyed her mother and uncle with a nervous look.

"She saw someone she knew," she said hesitantly. "She said she'd follow us back."

"Someone she knew?" John repeated.

"Who?" Christi asked.

Lily smiled as she swallowed some ice. "Just a boy in our class."

The comment made Monica smile with curiosity, but John's expressed grew more murderous, and Scully failed to reach him in time as he suddenly took off toward the front door, charging out into the street. Christi hesitated for a moment, her face also set, and then she, too, dodged Charlie and Scully and ran after John.

"Damn," Charlie said.

Catherine looked completely confused. "What's the matter?"

"It's Luke," Scully said.

XXX

After John and Christi had bolted down the street to look for Chloe, Scully had followed them out onto the sidewalk, but they were already gone. So she was left to retreat back inside, where Catherine and Lily were poking at their slurpees, looking as though they no longer enjoyed them. Charlie had gone.

"I tried to tell her to come with us," Lily said, looking awkward and guilty. "But she just -"

"You did nothing wrong," Monica said, giving her a hug and a kiss. She took Lily's slurpee and had a sip, smiling.

At that moment Charlie returned with Mulder, Anne and Jack. The latter appeared to Scully to be caught between the two sides - both fully understanding John and Christi's fears, and simultaneously recognising the overreaction. Caught between the two, Anne leaned against the back of the sofa, arms folded, saying nothing. Her eyes found the photo of Luke on the wall.

"No point going after them," Mulder said. "We'll just have to wait for them to return."

"They'll make enough of a public scene without our help," Scully agreed.

"But what do you mean it's Luke?" Catherine asked. "Wasn't that years ago?"

"Yes it was," Scully said, sighing. "But you can't understand how deeply it scars to lose a child under those circumstances. He's afraid for you."

"But can't you get him a shrink?" Nathan asked, coming to join them. "Isn't that why you have psychiatrists?"

"Psychiatrists don't erase the past," Monica told him. "They only help you try to live with it."

"And that's _living with it_?" Lily retorted.

"Why do _we _have to suffer?" Lachlan added.

"He does the best he can," Jack said. "You can't ask for anything more."

It was a full twenty minutes before Christi and Charlie finally returned. They heard them enter through the front door, Chloe with them and protesting loudly.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Chloe shouted.

They entered the living room, John's hand clamped on the back of Chloe's neck as he walked her home. Christi followed silently, scared and angry. In one stride Charlie grabbed John's hand and removed it from his daughter. Chloe rubbed her neck with her free hand that wasn't holding her slurpee, and looking furiously at John and Christi as she crossed to the safety of Scully's side.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Chloe repeated. "We asked Aunt Dana, she said it was okay!"

"Okay for you to lag behind?" John asked. "Hang back to pick up some guy?"

"He's not a stranger, he's in our class! Lily knows him, too -"

She looked to Lily for help, but Lily only gave an affirmative nod, unwilling to speak when her father was so furious.

Christi tried to pull herself together. She took a deep breath, and putting a hand on John's shoulder in a failed effort to calm him, she moved past and tried to speak calmly.

"It wasn't a sensible thing to do," she said. "You could've been seriously hurt, you scared us half to death -"

"Hurt by what?" Chloe shouted. "Sunshine? A _slurpee_?"

"Other parents let their kids walk up the street," Catherine said, jumping for once to her sister's defence.

"I don't give a crap what other parents do," John dismissed.

"You're not our father!" Chloe shouted.

She looked to Charlie for help, as he opened his mouth John was already firing back.

"You know what happens to kids who go out there alone? Do you have any idea of the creeps out there waiting for a girl like you? 'Cause in case you haven't noticed, it happens! One day you think everything's rosy and the next you find your own kid lyin' dead in a field so beaten up they have to go to DNA to identy 'im. And you don't have a flyin' clue what they endured, 'cept that if you're lucky -" he paused as angry tears spilled, "- if you're lucky, then death is all that they _did _endure." He paused and swallowed. "I mean do you have any idea how attractive you are? The perverts out there who look you up and down even now?"

"John!"

Monica looked alarmed at where the conversation was going, and Christi, too, stepped forward to grab him, but neither Chloe or John were pausing for breath.

"You're a psycho!" Chloe shouted. "You're my _uncle_!"

"And Luke's your cousin!" John shouted back.

"He's not my cousin! He's _dead_! I never even _met _him! Why can't you just get over it!"

"It's ancient history!" Catherine added.

"He's a part of this family!" John yelled back.

"He's dead!" Lily yelled. Her silence cracked and she spun to face her father. "You always do this! You always have to push it onto us all the time! Why can't you just let us be _normal_?! I only have one brother!"

"We didn't even do anything wrong!" Catherine went on. "We _asked _Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder, they said _yes_, I took her phone, we went straight there and -"

"And left your ten year old sister there alone to pick up some guy!" John finished. "You know there's a word for girls like that?"

"ENOUGH!"

Scully heard her voice bellow around the house as her patience finally cracked. She stepped in front of the three girls to fend off John's galloping temper.

"I'm not staying here!" Chloe said, and made to move past Scully with her slurpee, a tear already falling, but Scully caught her elbow.

She looked around at the five angry kids, who for once were uniting as one.

"I want you all to go to your rooms," she said calmly, "fetch a sleeping bag, pillow, and a change of clothes, and wait for me over at our house."

There was a moment of hesitation, but at her stern face, they left. Catherine's arm went defiantly around Chloe's shoulders as they went upstairs with Lachlan, and as Lily and Nathan went next door to fetch their things.

"Now have you finished calling my daughter a slut?" Charlie threw at John.

Scully held up at her hand to silence him and turned to John, using all her energy to keep calm.

"We've all lost our tempers in our time," she said, with forced calm. "And we all understand the pain of Luke's death as best we can. Yet irrespective of that, that was still _the _most _despicable _display of behaviour I think I've ever seen you pull." She paused to let these words sink in. Christi had tears in her eyes, John simply looked pissed off. "The kids will stay with me tonight. I suggest you use the time to calm down, and contemplate the fact that while Luke's death hurts, the carnage of five healthy kids we share now is _not _an acceptable remedy. And I warn you I will _not _stand by to watch it occur."

Furious, Scully turned just as Catherine, Chloe and Lachlan reappeared, their arms full with the requested items. Mulder touched her shoulder as she moved past, and their eyes met briefly in understanding - he would stay as a psychologist to try to heal things. Monica, too, looked upset but remained rooted to the spot, torn between being just as furious as Scully, yet also having those terrible memories from having been the one who found Luke.

Charlie, however, was red and irate, and as Scully walked the kids out the door, he followed, slamming the sliding door behind them, where it bounced and broke off its rails with a loud crack.

XXX

"Just put your things down," Scully said to the five kids, as they entered her living room, where the airconditioner was keeping the room cool as if nothing had happened. "You can stay here tonight."

The kids all dropped their things in a heap on the floor, but it was then Scully saw Lily was holding Purple Rabbit in her arms. She was too old for soft toys now, and her disorder had virtually healed, yet she was seen to still cling to Purple Rabbit in rare times of distress.

Scully crossed to her.

"Are you okay?"

Lily held Purple Rabbit to her chest. She was not teary, but looked angry and silent. The other kids all watched her, sympathetic except for Chloe, who was still fuming and flopped down on the couch in a fierce temper.

Scully took Lily in her arms and kissed her hair.

"It's okay," she said. "You know your Dad has these moods from time to time. It's nothing to worry about. We'll just give him some space, and he'll calm down. Don't let it get to you. It's only because he loves you all so much that he said what he did."

"I don't want to live there anymore," Lily complained, as they separated.

"He'll calm down," Scully repeated.

"But -" Lily paused as she gathered her emotions and then took a deep breath. "I know about Luke, what happened, but I just wish ... I don't _want _it. He's always pushing it onto us, and I hate it."

Scully had long picked up on this. Of all the five kids, Lily was sensitive to the traumas of their pasts. She hated the weight of Luke just as she hated references to what happened on the mountains. As a doctor, Scully knew a lot of it had to do with what had happened to her at the age of two, and it was a normal life which Lily now craved, without the tears, breakdowns and trauma lurking behind every eye.

"I'll have a word with him," Scully promised. "But Luke is a part of his past, just as you wouldn't expect him to stop loving you or Nathan if anything happened. I certainly don't approve of the way he just expressed it, but at the same time I need you guys to try to be a little understanding. We all struggle with things sometimes, and as a family, we have to support each other, and that involves loving and caring for each other even when we're seeing their less than ideal side."

"We'll just give them some space," Charlie said, backing her up and giving Lily a one-armed hug. "Tomorrow we'll all be laughing about it."

Scully reached for Nathan's hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded moodily.

Scully rubbed his back and kissed his head. It was a sign of his state that he did not flinch away. She walked with him and Lachlan to sit down with Chloe and Catherine on the lounge suite. Lily joined them, flopping down next to Chloe looking annoyed. Chloe still looked mutinous.

"It's not fair," Catherine burst out. "We have to be understanding of him, but he can treat us like that. I mean, is he really going to keep us locked up our whole lives just in case there's a murderer around the corner? I mean, what are the odds?"

"Like zero," Lachlan answered.

"It's stupid," Nathan agreed.

"Well we'll work something out," Charlie said. "In the meantime we have some more pressing problems."

"Like what?" Chloe asked angrily.

"What type of pizza you'd all like for dinner," Charlie said with a smile, tossing them the menu he had taken from Mulder and Scully's fridge door. "And then we'll bring down the spare mattresses from upstairs for you guys to sleep on tonight, hire a movie or two ..."

"And that's supposed to make it better?" Catherine asked grumpily.

But Scully smiled, knowing full well what Charlie was doing. In their own childhood, their father had had a saying: "Mopers are Losers". It was not a classy saying, yet sprung from his naval training. He did not believe that the ideal strategy when tragedy struck was sit around and mope about it, and thought the best way to keep a crew mentally healthy was to keep them busy and their minds off their problems. Scully knew now that Charlie was trying to distract all the kids from what had just happened, and therefore make it less of a deal and more of a fun night out while Monica and Mulder worked to calm down the four Doggett adults.

"Come on," Charlie said, smiling as he headed for the phone. "I'm taking orders."

And as he threatened to pick up the receiver the kids turned their attention to the list to search for their favourites.

XXX

An hour later, the atmosphere in Scully's house, at least, had settled. Charlie drove down to the pizza shop alone with Chloe, and Scully was not privy to what he said, but upon their return Chloe was smiling wide, the two had their arms around each other, and she was daddy's girl again. They returned with four large pizzas and three hired movies, and then settled down on the mattresses that had been laid down to eat and watch the movies as the sun finally began to sink. Scully joined them, but was deep in thought rather than paying much attention to what was happening. Her mind instead went over the events of the afternoon, and Catherine's valid complaint that they might as well lock them up their whole lives. The problem was, both John and the kids were right. There was danger on the streets, and it would be rotten luck that any of their kids should find it, yet the fact remained it could happen, and the three girls were all very attractive and defenceless. On the other hand, Catherine was nearly a teenager, and they had to gradually learn to give her more freedom. And if she couldn't even walk up to buy herself a slurpee on a scorching summers day, then that was plain ridiculous.

It wasn't until a further hour later that she had found a way out of the riddle, passing away the movie with Lily leaning contently against her shoulder - having long calmed down and Purple Rabbit now discarded. At that time there was also a knock on the back door, and Mulder opened it, seeking permission to enter with the rest of the family behind him.

"Come in," Scully invited, hitting stop on the movie. She saw in one glance that John was back to normal, except for looking enormously guilty. Amongst the group was also Deirdre, who had obviously been called in to assist in the task of peeling him down out of the rafters. Christi looked back to her normal self, and Monica was smiling.

"Hey," Christi said, eyeing the pizza boxes. "Did you leave any for us?"

"If you apologise," Chloe said, turning to look at her.

Scully tried to shoot her a look, but Chloe was not looking. However, Christi smiled, and looking amused she crossed the room, knelt down beside the mattress, took her daughter's hands in hers and said, "I _adore _you, with all my heart. If anything happened to you I couldn't go on. But, I am sorry that we panicked. And I'm very sorry for how it all happened. Do you forgive me?"

"I'll think about it," Chloe said.

But Christi shot out her fingers and tickled Chloe under the ribs, and she collapsed on her sleeping bag in peels of laughter.

"Okay, okay, I forgive you ..!"

Christi laughed as she let her daughter up, and the two hugged and kissed. In the meantime Lily had made her way over to Monica, and offered her the vegetarian pizza she had ordered and saved for her. Monica, who since the accident was a strict vegetarian, was trying her best not to look at all the other meat lying around in boxes and on plates, and thanked her daughter, embracing her. None of the kids however greeted John, who was hanging back watching Christi and Chloe make up - until Mulder nudged him and nodded toward the kids.

"I got somethin' I wanna say, too," he said, taking a deep breath and somehow looking more awkward than Scully had ever seen him, even in years of facing criminals in the FBI.

"Yeah?" Chloe said. Anger flashed through her eyes.

But John, undeterred, knelt down in front of her. "I don't think I can say this as well as your Mom, except that I'm sorry. Sometimes the pain, the way I feel, just gets the better of me. But that's still no excuse for sayin' anythin' that I said. I hope you know I didn't mean it, 'cept of course for the part of how much I love ya." He glanced at Deirdre, who nodded encouragingly. "I understand the three of you girls are startin' to grow up. Don't ask me where the time's gone, 'cos I sure as hell don't know. But I'm hopin' that we can find some kind of compromise here. Because it's true that what happened put a hole in my life, but I don't want it affectin' yours. What makes me happy is seein' you guys happy. Bein' around ya. You're all right."

"Just all right?" Chloe asked, looking offended.

John raised an eyebrow and searched the depths of his vocabulary. Behind him Monica was biting her lip to keep a straight face. "Fantastic, great fun, good company ... you gonna forgive me here, or what?"

Chloe shrugged. "It doesn't take back what you said."

John sighed. Then he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and held up a fifty dollar bill. "Fifty bucks do it?"

Chloe grinned. "Sixty."

"_Sixty_? That's steep."

"Don't push it," Charlie warned.

"You're forgiven," Chloe said, taking the fifty before he could change his mind. The two hugged, and John smiled as he held his niece. Chloe then pulled away and grinned at the note in her hand.

"Don't look so smug," Christi said. "Tomorrow we're still going to have a talk about that boy."

Chloe rolled her eyes and flopped back down on the mattress.

"Anyway," Anne said, coming to take a slice of pizza. "What's this compromise? Just so we're all clear."

John shrugged, trying to think fast. He plainly hadn't thought that far yet.

"I have an idea," Scully said.

"Fire away," John said, looking glad he'd been relieved of the responsibility.

The family came to sit down with them, everyone taking some of the leftover pizza. Lily perched in Monica's lap.

"Well," Scully said. "I've been thinking. The truth is, none of you are teenagers yet, and I think this business of walking up the street is just a one-off. So for now, I think it may be easier for all of us if you just grab one of us to walk with you, or drive you." She paused as all three girls looked sulky. "_However_, when you are twelve, we may consent to review that, based on your behaviour and maturity. But on two conditions. First, you let us buy you a cell phone -"

"Like you'd object to that," John interrupted.

"- And second, that you let us teach you some elementary self-defence."

Catherine, who was twelve in only another two months, was smiling again. "Such as..?"

"Just some skills. For instance, we could take you down to the FBI on a Sunday, when it's quiet, perhaps take advantage of their facilities ..."

Catherine's eye lit up. Chloe and Lily also looked eager, even though they would not be twelve for nearly two years.

"Would that be acceptable?" Scully asked, looking at both the kids, and the adults in the room.

"I think it's a _great _idea," Monica said. "Everyone should know how to defend themselves, especially women."

"Absolutely," Charlie added. "I know a fair bit of defence from the Navy, too."

"And the Marines," John agreed. "Police Force, FBI ..."

"Is it a deal then?" Christi asked.

"We'll think about it," Chloe said.

"Don't play that game," John told her with a smile. "You already emptied my wallet."

Chloe grinned.

Catherine jumped in. "Deal."

XXX

It was a Sunday afternoon a month later that the family was in the FBI gym. The building was empty except for one other young agent, who paid them no attention, and Scully, Mulder, John, Monica, and Charlie had spent the last hour teaching all the kids about fitness and basic self-defence. Initially, Scully had been hesitant about teaching the two boys, who after all were only eight years old, and this kind of education seemed premature and perhaps prone to misuse in school playgrounds, but John had put his foot down. Scully could see him wondering if Luke's chances may have been better if he'd had even some basics, and so they relented. John himself had come alive with the task of training the kids, both because of the good it did them, and also because it was among his expertise at the FBI, in his role as a Health & Wellbeing Officer, including mentoring and fitness training.

"Got some cadets there, Agent Doggett?"

The group smiled from the wooden benches as SAC Quentin Green approached with a wide smile on his face. He was dressed casually for once, and cast his eyes over as Lily was using a punching bag, and as Mulder and Monica coached her in how to hit it for maximum force.

"That's my daughter," John said proudly, nodding over at Lily. "Teachin' 'em some self defence."

"A skill everyone should have," SAC Green agreed. "She's not doing a bad job. Got a good career ahead of her, I think."

He smiled, teasing slightly as he assessed the groups' prospects. The kids were taking turns, Chloe watching near Lily and Mulder, the two boys doing some running laps with Charlie, and Catherine taking time out beside Scully on the benches.

"Easy," John told the SAC. "She's only ten years old. No recruitin', yet."

"The way I hear it, she may not need to work at all ..."

John raised an eyebrow at the overt reference to the survivors' enormous wealth.

"We try to set 'em a good example," John replied. "A life's not a life if you spend it sittin' around on your behind ..."

"I'll be back in a minute," Scully said, excusing herself from the group.

Catherine joined her as Scully made her way from the gymnasium down the narrow passage which led to the Medical Office. Though she worked four days at the Medical School, she spent every Wednesday morning as an FBI doctor, assessing the health of various agents in the Atlanta Field Office. She made her way past the reception desk to her consulting room, and unlocked the door.

It was a tidy room, a plain desk with photos of the family, and a large prominent photo of herself and Catherine taken last year. Around the walls were various posters on the spine and musculoskeletal injuries, as well as First Aid. On the side wall was an examination bed, but it was the desk drawer toward which Scully headed, pulling out some of the latest medical journals she had stored there, having not had time to read them. She would perhaps take them home.

Catherine sat herself down at the desk. Scully wondered what was on her mind as she looked around thoughtfully at the room.

"You know you're doing really well," Scully told her. "Working hard, making great progress."

"Thanks."

Scully changed drawers, pulling out an old book. "I can tell there's something on your mind."

Catherine did not reply immediately, she glanced out the door to check they were alone, and then at Scully, assessing her reaction.

"I'm all ears," Scully said.

"It may sound strange," Catherine said, "but do you remember that day? When Uncle John got mad?"

"I do indeed."

"He said we're attractive. Growing up."

"Well you _are _attractive," Scully agreed. "And you'll be twelve next month. You're at a stage of your life where things start to change. Your body, your ideas, your maturity ..."

Catherine nodded. "Yeah."

Scully shut the drawer, and looked at her niece, who was looking thoughtfully at her fingers. There did not seem to be anything wrong, and she looked as if she herself wasn't sure what she wanted to ask. But being an adult, Scully thought she knew what was on her mind, even if Catherine couldn't quite put it together as neatly herself.

"Look," Scully said, taking a seat and pulling it in front of her. "You know you're my niece. And yet I'd like to think that we're also great friends, and that the friendship we have is extremely special. And I just want you to know that if there's ever anything on your mind you feel you can't discuss with your parents, I'm right here. I won't shy away from anything at all that you want to talk about. In fact I'd be honoured to be there for you. I remember when I was your age there were a lot of things I used to wonder about, but I would have died rather than broach the subject with my Mom and Dad. And I think that's a natural part of growing up. So if ever you do want to know something, seek the facts about puberty, sex, relationships ... or even just need some advice or for someone to speak to, then I'm always here. And I won't break a confidence."

Catherine smiled. "Thanks."

Scully rubbed her knee. "So is there anything?"

Catherine leaned back in her seat and shrugged. "No."

Scully nodded and stood up, gathering the magazines and books, and passing a handful to Catherine to help carry them.

"Have you ever punched someone out?"

Scully laughed. "In my former line of work, yes. Many times."

Catherine looked impressed. It was a side-effect of the kids learning self-defence that all five of them now thought they were cool after all. They had not seen them in action before, but now they demonstrated their skills to the kids, and from the first session their eyes had shone with awe.

"However I don't recommend you try it, except by necessity," she added.

"Have you ever kneed a man in the groin?" Catherine went on, smiling.

"Perhaps," Scully said. "But I hope you're not thinking of practicing that one on Uncle Mulder."

"Aunt Dana?"

"Yeah?"

"You're kickass."


	3. Catherine & Janelle

_In order to make sense of this chapter, you will need a knowledge of the last two chapters of 'Melting Hearts' - skim it, I guess, if you can't remember. This chapter also contains sexual references._

* * *

Melting Hearts: Domestic Bliss

**CHAPTER THREE - CATHERINE**

It was several years later, Catherine now 17, when Scully was sitting outside on a February evening, the gas outdoor heater keeping her warm as she was absorbed in a medical journal article on breakthroughs in Alzheimer's. The heat shimmered down pleasantly where she sat at the wooden outdoor table and chairs on the small back verandah. Mulder himself had taken 14 year olds Nathan and Lachlan to an action movie, Anne and Jack were spending the evening at Jenny and Brian's, Chloe and Lily were both at a friend's house for an all girls sleepover, and when she last saw them, John and Monica had taken advantage of the absence of the kids to have a few beers with Christi and Charlie.

"Hey Doc."

John smiled as he came through the gate in the fence, beer in his hand and looking thoroughly critical of Scully's solitude and pile of reading.

"You wanna come join us?"

"I'm just catching up on some work," Scully said, turning her attention back to the journal.

John snatched it out of her hands in one swift move.

"Do you mind?" Scully asked.

"Not a whole lot," he grinned. "You work all goddamn week, every night. If you can't take a break for an hour on a Saturday night I'll start to think you're hidin' somethin'. Or at least runnin' from somethin'."

Scully knew then this had been the real reason for him coming over: to check she was all right, and not simply burying herself in work as she usually did when the memories became too much and she desperately strived for a distraction. She smiled and reached for his hand. For a moment his joking face slipped and she saw his concern underneath.

"You wanna come have a drink?"

Scully sighed. "I guess I might."

And with a grin she snatched his bottle out of his hand and stole a mouthful.

"You know I didn't mean mine."

They turned off the heater and wandered back through John and Monica's backyard to Christi and Charlie's house on the other side, where Monica, Christi and Charlie were slouched in the living room, a variety of beer and wine open on the coffee table. Monica handed her a beer as Scully sat down beside her.

"We couldn't bear the thought of you over there alone," Monica said, rubbing her knee.

"She wasn't alone," John said, flopping back down. "She had the company of an entire library."

"That's our Dana," Charlie joked. "So much knowledge, so little time, eh?"

"Like someone else we know," Christi said with a smile. She looked up the hallway toward the front door. Scully could just hear Catherine talking, and by the sound of it, Janelle was with her, perhaps saying goodbye.

It had been eight months now since Catherine had announced she was a lesbian, and that she was in a relationship with her high-flying classmate Janelle, whose parents were both very successful doctors. It had started off remarkably timid as both girls became comfortable with each other and their sexual orientation, but over the past few weeks the family had noticed some slight changes. For one, Catherine was now closing her bedroom door when Janelle was over. They had not done this before, mainly because the two spent most of their time studying, or else playing chess or preparing work for the debating team, and had nothing to hide in leaving the door wide open. Thus far, Christi and Charlie had not said anything to her, but Scully had noticed they were both watching the pair closely. Recently, too, Janelle had obtained her driver's licence and her wealthy parents had bought her a new car, and she was over more frequently. And then these visits, like now, ended with a long private goodbye.

The group heard the pair giggle in the distance.

"I think it's getting serious," Charlie said quietly.

Christi nodded and set her beer down. "I think so."

"Maybe it's time you had a word with her," Monica hinted gently.

"Have _The Talk_, you mean?" John asked.

"As if she'd talk to me," Christi said, looking skeptical.

"You underestimate yourself," Scully said.

"Oh come on," Charlie said with a laugh. "Would you have talked to our Mom at that age? Confessed your dirty secrets?"

Scully did not need to answer. She felt herself clam up at the mere thought of how she could have reacted had her own mother tried to obtain details of her high school relationships.

Christi laughed and nudged her. "I rest my case."

"Besides," Christi went on. "I like Janelle. I don't think we have anything to worry about."

"Far from it," John agreed.

"You know what they're probably doing up there, behind that closed door?" Monica asked.

Christi just stared. "Probably not half of what I used to do at that age."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

Christi smiled. "Later."

Catherine had drifted into the room, smiling and looking stunning with her slim figure and long red hair falling down over her shoulders.

"Hey," John said casually, "How are things goin' with you two lately?"

Catherine stopped at the foot of the stairs and cast a suspicious eye on him. "Why?"

John shrugged. "Just a friendly question."

Catherine gave him a long penetrating gaze before turning and continuing up the stairs.

John stared blankly after her. "More walls than a goddamn maze."

XXX

It was the following Thursday that Monica received the phone call as she sat at her desk in the living room. While everyone else was at work, Monica managed the survivors' joined finances, investing, buying and selling, reading the financial news and scouring prospects in property and auctions. It was a full time job with the sheer wealth the family had amassed - which was now over one billion dollars, thanks to her shrewd investments. She was absorbed in an article on the collapse of a minor US bank when the home phone rang. She made her way over and answered.

"Monica Doggett."

"Mrs. Doggett my name's Kirsten, I'm the principal at St. Mary's Grammar. I've been unable to reach the parents of Catherine Scully, and I have you down as a secondary contact."

"She's my niece," Monica said, immediately worried at why the principal should call, of all people. "Her parents are at work. Is she all right?"

"She's fine. But I'm going to need someone to come in and see us as soon as possible. We have an issue which needs attention."

"I can speak on her parents' behalf," Monica said, glancing at the clock and knowing it would be another two hours before Christi and Charlie finished work. "Can you tell me what the issue is?"

"I have to inform you she's receiving a two day suspension."

Monica immediately wondered if she'd heard right, and found herself checking the phone cord.

"Catherine?"

"Catherine Scully, yes. It appears there was a bit of a scuffle in the grounds at lunchtime. One of her classmates was knocked unconscious."

Monica shook her head, this was absurd. "You're saying Catherine did it?"

"Mrs. Doggett I have over a hundred eyewitnesses and a boy who was taken to hospital. Mercifully he'll be all right, but you're aware we don't tolerate violence. They're both suspended with a formal warning that further trouble will result in expulsion. I have to ask you to come pick her up and sign the necessary paperwork."

"Of course," Monica said, still fighting to match this description of behaviour with Catherine, who was the best behaved of all five of the kids. "But did you say 'both' -"

"Janelle Kendall," the principal answered, before Monica had even finished her sentence.

"Right," Monica said, taking a deep breath. "I'll be right over."

XXX

She found them in the principal's office, a large office at the front of the school, overlooking the best garden beds and the office itself adorned with antique furniture. As Monica entered, the principal, Kirsten McCombe, sat at her desk with a rigid expression, surveying the two girls who sat opposite. Janelle, the most self-confident teenager Monica had ever met, merely smiled as though this were any other day and tucked a strand of her wavy honey brown hair behind her ear, but Catherine was slumped in her seat, her school blazer discarded over the armrest. She was, however, looking defiant rather than embarrassed or upset. Monica herself was still willing to think this had been a misunderstanding, as violence simply wasn't in Catherine's nature.

"I'd better get going," Janelle said, getting up from her seat. She looked to Catherine, though neither reached for the other in present company. "I'll call you."

Janelle smiled at Monica and excused herself.

"She's going to drive herself home," the principal explained. "Her parents are coming to meet me in the morning."

Monica nodded and took Janelle's seat. She was quite familiar with Janelle's home life, the large house she shared with her parents, and the uncomfortable emptiness of its silence, as both her parents frequently worked long hours in the city as doctors. It was because of this that Janelle was the most self-sufficient mature teenager Monica had ever met. She drove herself to and from school, did the food shopping, cooked most of her own meals, and yet mysteriously, was still quite close to her parents, who absolutely adored her, spoiled her rotten, and had a huge amount of respect for her.

"So what happened?" Monica asked, looking to Catherine as gently as she could.

Catherine looked up at her with an expression of steely defiance that was so reminiscent of her aunt it was almost eerie.

"I knocked him out," she said simply.

"Why?" Monica pressed, still feeling as if this didn't add up. It would for Chloe perhaps, who was quite rebellious and smart-mouthed, and maybe even for the boys, with a slight stretch of the imagination, but never Lily or Catherine.

Catherine shrugged, her steel expression not wavering in the slightest. "I just did."

"Catherine, perhaps you'd care to wait outside while I have a word with your aunt," the principal said.

Catherine got up and left, closing the door behind her.

"They're both refusing to say what happened," the principal said. "All we know is that the teachers outside on duty arrived to find the two of them at the centre of a large crowd, fighting like animals with a boy named Simon. He's in their year. As the teachers went to break it up, Catherine knocked him out. He hit the ground unconscious. We called an ambulance straightaway, but luckily he wasn't hurt except for a concussion. Nevertheless I have a meeting with his parents in about an hour to try to explain what happened."

"It doesn't make sense," Monica insisted. "Catherine's not like that, neither's Janelle. They must have been provoked."

"I'm not excusing Simon from blame, but regardless of anything he could have said, in our view the appropriate course of action for the girls would have been for them to inform a teacher, rather than take the matter into their own hands. Or fists, as the case would appear. The fact remains we don't tolerate violence. From all accounts Catherine knew how to throw a punch, and in my view you're very lucky not to have a manslaughter charge on your hands. He hit his head on the asphalt. It could have easily been a skull fracture or a haemhorrage. His parents are livid and demanding answers. And I urge you to impress upon both Catherine and her parents the seriousness of what she's done. She's suspended for two days, and we'll require a written apology before she's allowed to resume."

Monica felt her temper rise. "I'm not _excusing _what she did. But I have known her since birth and been a part of her life every day for the last seventeen years. She's _not _like that. I dealt with hardened criminals in the FBI for ten years, and I've seen violence, and I know violent people. Catherine is one of the most gentle souls on this Earth. I just think you're missing something. Has anyone taken the boy's statement? Did their classmates overhear anything? Have you even spoken to Catherine and Janelle's friends?"

In her head she added one more, _Why were Catherine and Janelle refusing to tell their side of the story?_

"This isn't a federal investigation, Mrs. Doggett," the principal said coldly. "The issue at hand is Catherine's behaviour and we feel the suspension is more than warranted."

There was a tense silence for a moment. Monica knew nothing more could be achieved. She got to her feet.

"We'll be in touch."

She reached for Catherine's blazer and schoolbag which had been left beside the chair, and then opened the office door. Catherine was sitting beside it on a low couch.

"Let's go," Monica said, handing her her things. "We'll talk at home."

XXX

"Tell me why you did it."

Back on the couch in her living room, Monica sat down with Catherine. She tried to be gentle in her approach, yet Catherine was not cooperating. She had remained stubbornly silent all the way home, and then dropped her bag down and looked at Monica with an intense expression she could not quite decipher.

Catherine shrugged. "I just did."

"I know you did," Monica said gently. "It's the why that concerns me. I know you're not like that."

"Well maybe I am," Catherine replied.

"We can do this the hard way if you like," Monica said, tone firming. "But your parents get home in an hour and they may not be as charitable as I am. It'll be a lot easier if you tell me calmly now what happened."

Catherine shrugged. Monica was again struck by the resemblance to Dana, who had a similar expression when in a bad mood.

Monica sighed. For a long moment she tried to catch Catherine's eyes, but Catherine appeared determined not to enter discussion on the matter.

"All right then," Monica said. "You can sit here quietly until they get home. No television, no laptop, no cell phone. You can use the time to think about how you're going to justify this to your Mom and Dad."

After that Monica left her to sit quietly, and took her cell phone to make some private calls. First on the list was Christi and Charlie, to forewarn them of what had happened, and secondly, Dana. Already Monica knew Scully might be the only one for whom Catherine might open up. Logically, she knew it may turn out that Catherine had indeed just lost her temper. But she did not believe it.

XXX

"All right, tell me what happened."

Arriving home late from work, Scully threw her work case, coat and scarf down on Christi's dining table and then turned, hand on hip, to where the family were gathered. Catherine was the only one absent, as the action appeared to have enticed even the other teens out of their bedrooms. Chloe was on the couch, drenched in heavy make-up, short skirt, and looking smug that for once it wasn't her in trouble. Lily appeared genuinely concerned. Nathan and Lachlan appeared to have found a new respect for Catherine.

"She punched him out," Lachlan said, laughing. "You should have seen it. _Wham _-"

"Say that again and I'll re-enact it," Christi said, throwing him a severe look.

Lachlan fell silent.

"Why don't you guys go next door," Charlie said pointedly. "We want to talk to Dana alone."

"Why?" Nathan asked. "We all know what happened."

"And if you think it's funny you're obviously not mature enough to hear it," John added.

"She's lucky the kid's parents haven't laid assault charges," Mulder said.

"Off you go," Monica said, indicating the door all four kids, who after another look of protest, gave in.

Scully managed to hold her patience just long enough until they had left through the side gate and then turned to the other adults, hardly knowing where to begin. It had been earlier that afternoon when Monica had called her at work, as Scully was dodging her way down a packed corridor of medical students. At first, she thought she had heard wrong, and then when Monica finally persuaded her that she had heard right, it simply didn't add up in any way, shape or form whatsoever.

"She's upstairs," Charlie said. "We sent her to her room. Banned the computer and cell phone."

"I still don't understand why she did it," Scully said. "Did she explain why?"

"She won't talk about it," Christi said. "We went in there calm and supportive, tried to get her point of view, but she refused to talk."

"She said we'd just have to punish her," Charlie said, looking confused.

"That's a sign of guilt if you ask me," Anne said. "Whatever happened, she's not proud of it."

"Obviously she feels she has more to lose by telling you than by suffering the punishment," Jack agreed.

"Did you call Janelle's parents?" Scully asked.

"Half an hour ago," Christi said, nodding. "Janelle's giving them the same treatment. She's grounded."

"I don't understand it," Scully said, moving to sit down on the couch, exhausted after a twelve hour day at work. "Neither of them are the type to pull a stunt like this."

"That's why we called you," Charlie said. "You understand her better than any of us. She talks to you. We were hoping you could make some sense of it."

"Well I don't know what to tell you," Scully admitted. "If she's not talking to any of you I'm not sure I fancy my chances."

There was a brief silence.

Scully looked to Mulder as he sat down beside her. "What do you think?"

"Well I think it's obviously a gay thing," Mulder said. "This kid probably said something, maybe been giving them a hard time. Could be dozens of reasons."

"There has to be more to it than that," Scully said. "Otherwise she could have just told us. She knows we're all supportive, Janelle's parents too."

Mulder nodded. "Either way I wouldn't pursue it tonight. I think the best thing is to let her calm down, clear her head a bit."

"Then what do we do?" Charlie asked. "I don't want to make it worse, but I don't think we can just let this go."

"Not without a valid reason," Anne agreed.

"If it were one of mine," John suggested, "I'd be tellin' 'em that seeing as they aren't welcome at school those two days, they can do their work at home. Same hours. No lazin' around, no luxuries. Maybe give 'em some chores as punishment."

"Well my car does need a wash," Jack joked. "Send her over."

"Nice theory except we're not home to look after her," Christi said. "We'll both be at work."

"She can stay with me," Monica offered. "Work at the kitchen table."

"Can I make a suggestion?" Mulder asked.

"I'd love one," Charlie said.

"Perhaps send her to work with Scully. Make her do her homework there."

"I have a busy schedule, Mulder," Scully said.

"Just give her a corner of your office," Mulder said, a twinkle in his eye. "Or a seat in whatever lecture theatre you're using. Then you have the drive there, the drive home ... give her time, she'll cave. In fact I wouldn't even ask her what's wrong. Just accept her, and she'll probably come to you all by herself."

"Like reverse psychology?" Christi asked.

"You leave her around here for eight hours she'll only spend it building resentment. Give her the day with Scully she'll open up. I guarantee it."

"Assuming she even does talk about it, what do you want me to do if she requests I don't tell anyone?"

"Assure her you won't," Charlie said, shrugging. "We trust you."

"Just assure me she's okay," Christi said, looking anxious. "I don't care how you go about it, or what you have to promise. This just scares me."

XXX

The following day was a Friday, the end of the week and yet the first day of Catherine's suspension, who was not expected back, apology in hand, until Tuesday. Scully, along with the family, had followed Mulder's plan. Catherine had met her in her living room at 6:00am, her large schoolbag bulging with books and folders. But she had barely said a word, and this continued all the way into the city as Scully drove stop-start in the busy traffic. A few times Scully had nearly attempted to try to draw her into conversation, but then she had glanced at her niece, who was staring in deep thought out the window at the sunrise over the cityscape, and thought better of it. She did not appear in the mood to talk, and Scully had settled for reaching over squeezing her knee affectionately before turning the radio on to cover the silence.

When arriving at work, Scully had slid her arm around Catherine's shoulders as they walked from the parking lot to her office, and it had been the first good sign of the day when Catherine did not throw her off, but looked at her with slight surprise, as though she not expected Scully to be friendly. Scully had then rubbed her back in reassurance, and felt Catherine relax under her hand. Scully then bought them breakfast which they could eat in her office, and then climbed the stairs and walked down the dim corridor to the far end, where there was a frosted window glistening in the winter sun and a door with "Dr. Dana Scully" printed on the front.

"Here we are," Scully said, opening the door.

Considering her relatively unimportant position in the hierarchy, it was a fairly nice office. She had her own window - a rarity in the building - and the room she had to herself, not being required to share as with some other lecturers. There was a large desk with seats for visitors, and the entire wall was a built-in bookcase. Prominent on the bookcase were not only all the set texts, large anatomy textbooks and medical dictionaries, but also her own four published academic works, and copies of numerous journals to which she had contributed. On the wall were her two degrees in physics and medical science.

"You have a nice office," Catherine said, putting down her things as she finished her toasted sandwich.

"Thank you," Scully said, pleasantly surprised, and thinking that perhaps they would not spend the entire day in silence.

After that, the bulk of the day passed in its usual hectic manner. Her first lecture was not until nine, yet she found three students knocking on her office door at 8:00am, seeking her clarifications and expertise. Then she had taken Catherine along with her to her classes, sitting her in the front row of the large theatre as Scully took the stage, and then on a small table to herself in the practicals and smaller tutorials which followed. Throughout these busy sessions Catherine remained seemingly buried in her homework, yet several times as Scully glanced at her she saw her staring into space, the pages of her books unturned for several minutes, pen idle. Lunch was eaten on the go, and it wasn't until after five o'clock, when they finally retreated to her office that they even had a few minutes alone. Scully set up her laptop in order to clear her e-mails and a few things before they went home, but Catherine, who insisted she had finished all her homework, drifted to the bookshelf and pulled out one of the large anatomy textbooks, which had large colourful diagrams on every page, and hundreds of photos. Scully watched her out of the corner of her eye, reminded of a time only a few years ago when Nathan and Lachlan had found her books at home, and she'd stumbled in on them giggling with delight at the diagrams of male and female genitalia. But she knew Catherine had always wanted to be a doctor, and after all was seventeen, so she let her go as she browsed through the heavy book and all the graphic photos of the human body.

"You still think you'd like to be a doctor one day?" Scully asked, as Catherine sat reading next to her.

"More than anything," Catherine replied. Scully saw the naked ambition in her eyes as she turned the pages with interest.

"You'd make an excellent one," Scully said honestly. "So would Janelle."

"Thanks."

She seemed genuinely touched, and smiled over the top of the book.

"Do you think being suspended hurts my chances?" she asked anxiously.

"No," Scully replied. "They'll be focusing on your academic results, and how you come across at the selection interview, when the time comes. But I can help you there. I've sat on so many of those Panels myself."

"Do you think being gay does?"

Scully turned to look at her. Catherine was looking at her fingers again and appeared worried.

"It shouldn't, no," Scully said truthfully. "You know there are laws governing equality. They can't turn you down on that basis."

"But you know not everyone thinks that way."

"No," Scully admitted sadly. "Some don't. It's a depressing part of life that there are some people out there who feel the need to judge. I remember we encountered a similar thing when it became clear what we digested on those mountains. There was a lot of unjust criticism. I still get it today from some corners. But I don't let it get me down. I believe we made the right decision, and that's all I can say. And I also believe in equality, and that you and Janelle are two of the most capable students I've ever encountered, and you'd be a substantial asset to any profession you might choose to join. But if anyone ever does treat you like that, or if anyone _has _been treating you like that, then I hope you know you can rely on me for support."

She was not a fool, and saw in Catherine's eyes that there was more to this conversation than a simple query. The entire family suspected that the trouble at school might have to do with Catherine and Janelle's relationship, but with both girls refusing to speak about it, there was little they could do.

With Catherine deep in thought, Scully turned back to her laptop, clearing another few e-mails.

"Do you think we could talk sometime?" Catherine asked hesitantly. "In private?"

"You can talk to me anytime," Scully said. "You know that."

"But you're never home," Catherine said. "And when you are you're always working, or there's people around ..."

Scully felt a small stab of guilt, knowing there was perhaps a small grain of truth in that statement.

"Well I'm here now," Scully said. "And I've been thinking that the beach house is free this weekend. What if you and I go down for the night?"

"Tonight?" Catherine asked.

"We could go home, pick up some things, leave right after dinner."

It was over two hours drive to the beach mansion the survivors had bought all those years ago, but the idea had been flitting around in her head all day. In those rare moments between students demanding her attention the problem of Catherine's suspension came back into her mind, and she had wondered what they would do if Mulder's plan failed, and they returned home that night with her still not talking. Though she was now offering to talk, the idea had not died, as there was an intensity in her niece's eyes that made Scully think that whatever she was in for, it was not going to be a quick and easy conversation, and hardly one best achieved with the rest of their large family coming and going from the room. No, it was best done in a relaxing quiet place like the beach house, where they could have the whole night, or potentially the entire weekend, to get to the bottom of things.

"But I have one condition," Scully said.

Catherine looked wary. "Yeah?"

"I want the truth," Scully said firmly. "The whole truth."

"About the suspension," Catherine said.

"Yes," Scully said.

Catherine thought for a moment and then nodded. "All right."

XXX

When they had first arrived home, the family reacted to Scully's plan with skepticism, Jack bluntly saying, "It seems like every time she gets in trouble you end up spoiling her", at which point Scully had flatly said, "Do you trust me or not?" Charlie could not understand the relevance of wanting to go all the way to the beach house simply to extract the truth - a feat he thought she could accomplish just as well in an upstairs bedroom, however Christi was entirely supportive, as were both Mulder and Monica, who thought it was a clever idea, and would do both of them the world of good. The only objection came from Nathan, who said, "So if I punch someone in the head, can I get a trip to the beach house?" Monica's swift and stern look silenced him, and Scully left Monica and John to explain it to him after they left.

It was dark by the time they got in the car and Scully drove the lonely highway toward the coast, the stars glittering in the night sky, their bags thrown in the back seat. Scully could not help noticing that while Catherine seemed excited at the surprise trip, she also looked nervous at the inevitable conversation at the other end, shifting her feet restlessly and glancing at the clock. They arrived finally at the beach house just after ten o'clock, and Scully slung her bag over her shoulder as she entered the garage side door.

The beachfront mansion had been Mulder's indulgence after they had settled in Atlanta. It had eight bedrooms, five bathrooms, several living areas, a rumpus room with full size pool table and bar, spa, balconies overlooking the ocean and its own small private beach. It was here the family retreated every summer, as well as at Christmas, Easter, and the odd weekend. Without the remainder of the family, however, it felt strangely dark and empty as they walked in, and Scully left her bag in her usual bedroom before heading downstairs to turn on the lights, heating, gas log fire, and find herself a drink. Immediately she wondered, as she always did, why they didn't do this more often, but the reality was it was so hard to find the time amidst the chaos of their lives.

She sent a text message to Mulder to inform him they had arrived safely, and then sat down in front of the gas log flames, as they flickered a relaxing glow over the room. She could hear the waves lapping the beach outside and a cold wind rustle the trees.

"You ready?" Scully asked.

Catherine nodded as she sat down with a glass of orange juice.

"But you have to promise this doesn't go any further," Catherine said suddenly. "I know you all talk. I don't want you telling them anything, or giving hints, writing it down or letting them guess ..."

"I won't communicate anything," Scully said.

"Not even Uncle Mulder."

"Not even Mulder," Scully agreed. In her head she wondered again what was coming that necessitated these measures, but tried to appear patient.

"Well," Catherine started, taking a deep breath, "you know that guy?"

"You mean the one you hit?"

"He's just a turd."

Scully bit back her surprise. "You know after coming all the way out here I expected a loftier explanation."

Catherine looked at her, nervous, but Scully smiled. It had been a very long week.

"Why is he a 'turd'?" Scully asked.

"It's just ... you know when I first told you. In Shanghai." She paused as Scully nodded. "It was really hard. But then you were nice. And Mom and Dad were nice, and Aunt Monica and Lily ... and for a few days it was heaven. You know, at home it's really good. And most people at school are okay too. They say we're a good match. But there are some people, like this guy, and they're just turds."

"Tell me why," Scully repeated, rubbing Catherine's knee. "What's he saying?"

"And his friends," Catherine corrected. "It's all of them. It wasn't so bad at first. We didn't even tell anyone for two months, until they figured it out. And they're just teasing, you know? We thought it would stop, but it hasn't. They're just always saying things and doing things, and then before Christmas we complained to the coordinator, but nothing happened. They keep doing it. Janelle said it didn't matter, she tries to play it cool, saying we only have a few months to go before we leave, and then college, and I understood that. But the other day I just cracked. I couldn't take it anymore, you know? I just lost it. He's a turd."

"All right," Scully said, giving her hand a squeeze. "We've established he's a turd. But tell me exactly what he did to land himself in the sewer system."

"Some of it's just teasing," Catherine said, looking sadly into the fire. "They sit near us in class, whisper things. They ask me if I fuck her, ask Janelle if she feels my tits, if we come. They passed around a drawing of us. I tore it up and threw it at them. We've both yelled at them to shut up, and our friends have, and some other nice people, but it doesn't do anything. They get off on it. And some it's so _repulsive_. They ask her if she spanks me, if we use a vibrator, what favours I do for her ... and you know it's not _like _that."

Scully slid an arm around Catherine as she wiped at tears, simultaneously wishing she could drop around to the boy's house and punch him out again. Fury welled within her that anyone could treat Catherine like this.

"I know it's not like that," Scully said soothingly. "But tell me, is that all they've been doing? You said before they'd been saying _and _doing things."

"Just sometimes," Catherine said. "They flicked open her bra through the back of her dress. It was so quick I don't even know _how_. She had to go to the bathroom to fix it. And then they threw gum in my hair before Christmas. Janelle had to cut it out. I mean, I don't care about me so much, but it makes me so mad the way they treat her. She doesn't deserve this. It makes me furious."

"I know," Scully said. "And I don't blame you in the least. What did that teacher say when you complained?"

"Not much," Catherine said, shrugging. "She said she'd have a word with him. But we didn't tell her everything. And I don't even know if she did, nothing happened."

"Do Janelle's parents know any of this?"

"No," Catherine replied. "I'm seventeen, she'll be eighteen in two months, we thought we could deal with it ourselves without having to run crying to our parents like kids."

"Well you did your best," Scully said. "It's not your fault you have an inadequate teacher."

"It's a Catholic school," Catherine said. "They're against same sex relationships. We're not even allowed to go with each other to the Prom. It's banned."

Scully couldn't believe her ears. "You never told us that."

"You never asked," Catherine replied. "We're just not gonna go."

Scully leaned back in the seat as the weight of all she'd heard overwhelmed her and a thousand thoughts and concerns fought for her attention.

"Well," she said at last, "As a Catholic school they have the right to implement their own policies. And the Catholic church does have a strict stance against same sex relationships. But the law also states you can't discriminate on the basis of a person's sexual orientation, and furthermore that both the physical and verbal sexual harassment you've just described is illegal."

"Tell them that," Catherine said, with an indifferent shrug.

"All right," Scully said, sighing. "I think the most important thing is that you write down everything you can remember. What they said, what they did, names, dates, times, who you complained to, any witnesses ... anything you can remember."

"What are you gonna do?" Catherine asked.

"Well unfortunately the fact remains that you did hit him, and your suspension will stand. But regardless the school and this kid's parents are only hearing half the story here. If you agree, I think it may be wise to arrange a meeting with the school. Because irrespective of your suspensions, and the fact that you only have four months to go before you finish, I don't want it to be another four months of this. They have a responsibility to ensure your safety at school, and that you're protected from this kind of disgraceful behaviour and the damage it does, both to you, to Janelle, and more importantly to your relationship."

Catherine nodded. She looked daunted at being asked to put all the crude words into writing, but did not object.

"And what about you?" Scully asked. "How have you been coping?"

"It's not _all _bad," Catherine said. "I mean, at school it's awful, but as Janelle says we're only there another few months. And Janelle has her licence now, I'll have mine soon ... and Mom's been really supportive. She gives us space, doesn't ask quesions or anything. It's nice when Janelle's over at our place."

Scully nodded. "Your Mom and Dad are both trying their best to help. To give you somewhere you can enjoy each other's company without looks or comment."

"I just wish it wasn't necessary," Catherine said, looking depressed again. "It's not fair."

"I know it's not," Scully agreed sadly, giving her a squeeze. "You don't deserve any of this. I can't tell you how much it hurts me to see you suffering like this."

"But it's not just school," Catherine went on. "It's everywhere. If you look at Lily and her boyfriend Trent, they can do anything they want. They're all over each other at school, you know. And no one even notices. And yet if I do so much as hold Janelle's hand everyone stares like you wouldn't believe. And Chloe - the way she acts, the way she dresses - and yet for some reason I'm the dirty one. All I've done is love Janelle. And she loves me. And yet because of some irrational prejudice we're not allowed to show it. It's not like we're hurting anyone. It's not like I'm treating her bad. But we're not allowed to marry like everyone else, can't even propose like everyone else, I can't even go with her to our own Prom."

"Well perhaps you can do something else instead," Scully suggested. "Do something even more special."

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet. We can think of something. It's not as if money's a problem."

Catherine was silent for a moment, thinking as she gazed at the flames. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Last weekend, after I said goodbye to Janelle and came back in. I overheard you all talking. Do you all think ... that I'm sleeping with her?"

There was a hesitant tone of disbelief in her voice that told Scully plainly that this was not the case.

"Well," Scully said slowly, "I can't speak for the others on that point."

She did not give her own views, however, and Catherine looked disappointed with this cryptic answer.

"What's the problem?" Scully asked, knowing her niece far too well to be fooled.

Catherine was quiet for a long moment, so long that Scully thought she had perhaps messed up her answer. But then, at last, she replied.

"When did you lose your virginity?"

Scully took a breath and tried to collect herself. This was frequently Catherine's habit: she had to bargain to get close to her, offer a piece of her own history before Catherine would divulge details of her own life. She had earn her trust.

"I was about twenty, I think," Scully said, her mind going back to those days at college. "I was studying physics at time, summer break. I ran into an old friend. His name was Marcus. We spent the night together."

"And?" Catherine asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

"_And_," Scully continued, "it was an utterly forgettable experience. Not the special moment a girl dreams about."

Catherine fell quiet again as she stared into the flames. She appeared a little anxious, slightly nervous as though she was debating whether to broach the subject Scully knew was on her mind.

After taking another sip of her drink, Scully decided to put her out of her misery.

"To answer the question you asked earlier, personally I'm inclined to believe you haven't gone that far with Janelle yet. However I can see you're considering it."

Catherine looked up.

"Am I right?"

"Maybe," Catherine said mysteriously, a smile on her lips.

"Are you asking my advice?"

Catherine shrugged one shoulder, but her eyes were glued on her in rapt attention. Scully smiled and rubbed her knee, gazing into the fire and choosing her words carefully. In truth, she had perhaps known all day that it was going to come to this discussion, somehow or other. She had sensed it ever since the last Saturday when the family observed how close the girls were becoming. Christi and Charlie said they trusted her entirely, yet Scully found herself weighing her opinions carefully, aware anything she said was very likely to influence her niece, however much Catherine loved to pretend indifference.

She had apparently been quiet so long that Catherine couldn't stand it any longer.

"Would it matter if we did?"

"Well," Scully said, still choosing her words carefully, "you're seventeen, quite mature, nearly an adult. I think you're capable of making your own choices. But there are some things I think you need to consider."

Catherine waited.

"Firstly, you should consider carefully whether you're ready. And more importantly, whether Janelle's ready. You can't assume she is, however keen you may be yourself."

"She is," Catherine said confidently.

Scully nodded. "And I'm going to assume this would be her first time, as well as yours."

Catherine nodded.

"Right," Scully said. "Then you come to the fact that you're both underage and living at home. In that context you're going to need to consider what your both your parents will think. Even if you choose not to tell them you'll have to consider how they might react if they find out. For instance, I know how much Janelle's parents love her, especially her father. You might do well to consider how he'd react if he found out, if he'd approve of you seducing his daughter before you've even left school, if he's likely to fear it will get in the way of her good grades, if he'd lose respect for you. And then you have your own Mom and Dad to think about."

Catherine leant back against the couch with a depressed look, and Scully saw that she had obviously not considered these points.

"However I wouldn't worry so much about that," Scully continued. "If you can satisfy me on all of my concerns I may be over to help you smooth it over."

Privately, she knew that Christi thought the two already were having sex, and in her head she reflected on the histories of all the adults in the family, which were entirely unknown to the kids. Christi had lost her virginity at sixteen, to a rebel her parents had despised, Anne and Jack had lost it to each other at seventeen, John at eighteen when he joined the marines, Monica nineteen when she went to college and found her rebellious side, Mulder at twenty at Oxford. Even Charlie had lost his to a girl in his early twenties, though Christi had been his first relationship that wasn't a one night stand. All of them had lost it within the same few years, but all with the exception of Anne and Jack had had very ordinary experiences, and were not overly fond of going down memory lane.

"What are your concerns?" Catherine asked.

"Well aside from those I've already mentioned," Scully went on, "if you were to go ahead with it, I'd like to make sure you treat her right. I don't want it to be a rushed act in a bedroom by two hormonal teenagers sneaking around to avoid their parents. You both deserve better. So make it special. Don't insult her by cheapening it."

Catherine was watching her closely, and Scully could see she hadn't thought about this side of it, either.

"If you truly love her, you'll treat her properly. And that means giving some consideration to time and place, to atmosphere and romance, to perhaps spending the day with her first and showing her you value her time and company and not merely her body. These things make a difference. And if the time does come, given that it'll be the first time for both of you, make sure you look after her."

Catherine looked confused. "Look after her..?"

"I mean don't rush it," Scully explained. "Take your time. Think about foreplay, seduction, technique ... take the time to learn what she likes, how she reacts, and understand it's give and take. You have to put her needs first. And take care of her afterwards."

Catherine looked at her, almost embarrassed to ask.

"The difference between having sex and making love is how you treat the person before and after the event. It means a little tenderness, holding her afterwards, telling her you love her. And understanding that it probably won't be perfect the first time. Making love is a skill you learn like anything else. Don't be disappointed if it falls short of your imagination. But if you take the time to observe and learn each other, have a little open communication, you'll learn fast."

Catherine nodded, and then lapsed into silence, given careful thought to everything Scully had just said. Scully took another sip of her drink and for a moment there was only the sound of the waves thrashing against the beach in the night outside.

"She'll be eighteen in two months," Catherine said suddenly. "Then she'll be legally an adult. And her parents trust her anyway, they've treated her as an adult for years now. They respect her decisions. And they've told her not to mess it up with me."

Scully smiled. She had gotten to know Janelle's father - Professor Kendall - quite well over the last eight months during times they had picked up or dropped off the two girls. She knew he was very approving of Catherine and the Scully family, and not only because they were so wealthy, but also because he respected Scully's achievements in the medical field, and Catherine's intelligence and grades at school. He had told them he thought Catherine was 'a good catch'.

"And I'll have my driver's licence before her birthday," Catherine went on thoughtfully. "And then we'll graduate two months after that."

"I'd _prefer_," Scully said carefully, "that you both wait until you graduate. You'll both need the best grades you can get, and it'd be unwise to let this distract you now. You're far better off looking upon it as a reward at the other end."

As she had expected, Catherine looked disappointed at this suggestion, and her face fell a little.

"I suppose," Catherine said.

"The matter of becoming a doctor isn't something to be taken lightly," Scully pointed out. "You're going to need all the study hours you can get going into your final school exams."

Catherine slumped forward and put her hands over her face miserably. "It's so hard. I love her more than anything. And all this - what's been happening - it's just so unfair."

"I know," Scully said. "But I stick to what I said; write it all down, and then perhaps we can discuss it with your Mom and Dad, and go see the school to complain. I think Janelle's parents need to know, too. I don't like the fact that they're in the dark."

Catherine nodded again. She trusted Scully, and would not object.

"And as for everything else, if you're determined not to go to the Prom, we can do something else instead. I was thinking maybe we could all dress up, go out for a formal dinner in the city. You know there are some dazzling, expensive restaurants if you have the right connections. Or the fame and the fortune, as in our case. But you could bring Janelle and her parents, all our family, spend an evening out together."

"It sounds all right," Catherine said, looking unsure.

"And afterwards," Scully said, "I'll loan you the keys to the beach house, and you can get in the car and drive her down here for the weekend."

Catherine's eyes lit up like beacons. "Seriously?"

"On the proviso you work hard on your school work until you graduate," Scully said. "And let us help you with this harassment issue. But I'm going to need permission to tell your parents - and the others."

Catherine looked anxious. "But not Chloe and Lachlan," she said quickly. "Or Lily and Nathan."

"Not the kids," Scully said firmly. "But I think the others need to know. And Janelle's parents."

Catherine was silent for a moment, her mind whirring.

"Do we have a deal?" Scully asked.

"All right," Catherine said, beaming with excitement. "Deal."

XXX

Scully and Catherine did not get to bed until after 2:00am. Catherine had spent the time typing up all her recollections of what her and Janelle had endured for the past six months, and it amounted to ten solid pages of text. She had trouble remembering precise dates, but remembered all the precise comments vividly, including who had said them and who had laughed, and who had witnessed it. Scully read the document after Catherine retreated, exhausted, to bed. The sheer emotional pain of what she read kept her awake for another few hours, and she walked out onto the balcony overlooking the night ocean, unable to believe what had happened beyond the notice of any of the family. She suddenly saw with depressingly clarity how absent she had been for the last year, almost a workaholic, and wondered if Catherine might have come to her sooner if she had been around and available. But no matter, she could do something about it now she knew.

They drove home early the next afternoon, after a long sleep in, and rolled into the driveway to see that as planned, Janelle's BMW was parked in the street, along with her parents' Mercedes. Scully had not told the family over the phone why she wanted to see them immediately, nor Janelle's parents when she had called. But they all knew Scully had extracted the story from Catherine, and as they got out the car Janelle appeared at the door, smiling as she leaned casually against the frame.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," Catherine replied, grinning as he got out the car.

Scully wondered how she managed to make that one small word drip with love, and quickly fetched her bag from the back seat as Janelle was searching Catherine's eyes, evidently not yet daring to launch all her questions in Scully's presence. Due to Catherine's cell phone ban, the two had not spoken to each other since Monica had picked her up from school on Thursday, and Janelle had no idea what Catherine had told them, nor why her and her parents had been summoned around.

"Your Mom and Dad are here?" Scully asked her.

"Inside," Janelle said, pointing to the passage that led to Scully's living room.

"Why don't you go unpack," Scully hinted to Catherine. "We might need a little while."

The two girls left for next door and Scully headed inside, steps slow as she felt the full weight of what she was about to reveal.

Mulder's voice echoed down the passage. "That you, Scully?"

"It's me!" she called back, carrying her bag into the room and placing it on the sofa.

The entire family were gathered in the kitchen: Christi, Charlie, Monica, John, Mulder, Anne, Jack, along with Janelle's parents Dr Lillian Kendall and Professor Gary Kendall.

"Hi," she said. "Thank you for coming."

She extracted several copies of Catherine's statement, and then went to greet the family, sharing a kiss with Mulder, and a hug with Monica and John. All three had been worried about her. Though it had been eighteen years since the accident, it still felt like yesterday, and it was hard to part even for twenty-four hours.

"She's obviously been talking to you," Charlie said, looking about to burst with the strain of the wait.

"Yes," Scully said. "She told me everything. I'm allowed to share it with you on the condition it doesn't go any further than this room. She doesn't want the other kids knowing."

"Done," Christi said quickly, restless and stressed. "Just tell us before I go crazy."

"Absolutely," Dr. Lillian Kendall said, looking calm but worried.

Scully took a deep breath. "This boy she hit -"

"Simon," Professor Kendall interjected.

"Yes," Scully went on. "It turns out he and his cronies have been bullying the pair since the relationship became common knowledge. It's been going on for at least six months now. They've been systematically teasing and jeering at every opportunity. Catherine finally cracked the other day, and rightfully so I think."

"Teasing and jeering?" Monica repeated.

"What precisely are they doing?" Professor Kendall asked.

"I got her to write it all down," Scully said, turning over the copies of the statement and passing them around - to Christi and Charlie, Monica and John, Mulder, the Kendalls ... "You may want to read it thoroughly. It's been a long time since I've been this angry."

Monica looked at her, slightly alarmed. It was rare that Scully became openly angry, she usually kept her emotions carefully controlled.

It was an agonising moment of silence in which she gave them time to read, and she went to turn on the kettle in order to keep herself busy, and burn off the simmering ball of frustration she felt welling inside her. They were barely a paragraph in to the ten page paper when Christi's eyes widened in horror, and Monica, alarmed, started skimming fast and flicking through the pages.

"What the _hell _is this?" she demanded, brown eyes flying up in outrage.

"Sex toys?" John read, his own anger taking off. "Askin' 'em how she gives it to her?"

"Who the hell does this kid think he is?" Jack asked, glasses on as he read a copy with Anne.

"They complained and nothing was done?" Dr. Lillian Kendall said, not believing her eyes.

"It's a school," Mulder said. "Long as you're paying their fees they're not gonna care."

"It's a silent contract," Monica said, eyes hard. "We pay thousands of dollars for their education, and they're supposed provide it in a safe and supportive environment. They've broken their side of the bargain."

"You can't cause trouble, Monica," Scully said, seeing in her determined hard face where this was going. "They only have four months to go. It's not the time to be switching schools or making things worse."

"Besides which it's a school," Anne pointed out. "At the end of the day they have little control over what those kids do."

"The hell they don't," Professor Kendall said. "They had no trouble suspending Janelle, and she wasn't even the one who threw the punch!"

"Not that we don't support Catherine for doing it," Lillian added quickly.

"But Dana," Monica said, undeterred, "You're not talking about an everyday playground jibe, you know as well as I do this constitutes sexual harassment. It's _illegal _and it's damaging."

"Well I won't have Catherine apologising to him," Christi said, her face hard with anger as she threw down the paper, where it slid off the table and crumpled on the floor. "He can go to hell."

"She'll have to apologise," Jack said. "The fact remains she needs to finish school."

"The _hell _she does," Christi said, so furious her commonsense flew out the window. "She could spend the rest of her life cruising around the world and not hit the bottom of our bank account."

"Calm down," Scully said. She took Christi's rigid arm and led her to a chair. Christi said down and used her tense fingers to push her hair back.

"If she wants to be a doctor she'll have to finish school," Anne said calmly. "There's no way around that. But at the very least you should be getting this kid to apologise."

"Not to mention pay for their counselling," John added, as he continued to read.

"His parents probably don't even know this has been happening," Charlie said.

"Then we enlighten them," Monica said. "We go around there."

"No," Scully said firmly.

"Absolutely not," Mulder echoed calmly. "If for no other reason than the fact that he's probably picked up his homophobic views from them. I wouldn't expect them to care."

"Especially not when she's just punched out their son," John said skeptically. "Fact is she could've seriously injured him."

"And he's injured our children," Professor Kendall said. "You of all people should know a psychological injury is just as damaging as a physical one. I mean -" he flicked back a page and Catherine's words aloud, "- he then jeered, _'Does she fuck you with her fingers? Do you scream?_'"

Christi cringed as the words were read out loud. Charlie put his arm firm around her.

"All right," Monica said, pulling herself together. "Then we go to the school first thing Monday morning, and we put this before them. Catherine and Janelle apologise, but so does this kid Simon. I want it in writing to both of them. And if he refuses we press charges of sexual harassment. If he does apologise, and the school fails to put an immediate stop to it, I'm withdrawing Lily and Nathan, and suing them for damages."

"We'll pull out ours too," Charlie said flatly. "I may do it anyway."

Scully wasn't too sure, but Janelle's parents were nodding.

"I'm with you," Lillian said. "I won't tolerate this. I'll get Janelle to write a statement."

It was then that Scully mentioned the other thing on her mind - that Janelle and Catherine were not going to the Prom. She did not hint at the rest of the conversation, however, but did say she had offered them a substitute expensive dinner in the city, and the beach house as a reward afterward, saying this purely as she knew Catherine and Janelle would make it public soon enough anyway. Monica looked up at her, a knowing glint in her eye, but it was the reaction of Janelle's parents she was curious about, knowing they were more than smart enough to pick up the implication.

"It sounds like a nice idea," Lillian said warmly. "We know several good restaurants ..."

"We'll split the bill with you," Professor Kendall said, standing up from his chair. "Let us know what you'd normally charge for rent per night. I'll pay Janelle's share."

And with that he pushed his chair in, and both him and his wife looked for the door to go talk to their daughter.

"Out here, correct?" he asked, pointing to the door and picking up a copy of Catherine's statement.

"Side gate, two houses down," Charlie replied.

The family waited until they had left, and then Charlie gave her a knowing look.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm not saying anything other than that I offered them a fancy dinner and the keys for the weekend," Scully replied. "And I tell you that with her permission and mainly because she's going to ask for money for a dress this afternoon."

But Monica was grinning. "You had a sex talk with her?"

"We discussed a lot of things," Scully said evasively. "But I'm sworn to strict secrecy. And I have to ask you to respect that, and just trust me."

"Dana, relax," Christi said, rubbing her wrist. "Personally I don't mind if they're doing it. I love and trust them both. What I care about is that this little shit has his nose inbetween them, complete with binoculars, journal and webcam."

"He's just a jerk off," John said. "We'll take care of him."

"I hope so," Christi said. "God knows those two were scared enough as it was. It just doesn't seem fair."

"It's not," Mulder said heavily, in a voice so tender and caring Scully reached for his hand. He squeezed it.

"It'll be fine," Charlie said. "Don't worry. No one's ever gotten the better of a Scully." He looked up at his sister. "Right?"

Scully smiled. "Aye aye."

XXX

The meeting at the school took place Monday afternoon. By that time Janelle had written her own statement, which for the most part tallied with Catherine's, and the school had also summoned in Simon's parents, pulling the boy out of class to attend as well. Scully knew perfectly well it was not just the threat of Monica and Christi withdrawing their kids, and the resulting loss of income from the school that had the adminstration panicking, but also Monica's threat that they would sue the school and press charges against the boy unless their demands for an apology and immediate action were met. The school knew very well of the survivors' mass fortune, and their resulting fame which meant the story would hit headlines within the hour and blacken the school's reputation for years to come. Simon's parents also knew that unlike them, the Scully-Doggett family could afford to hire a lawyer to pursue it through every court there was. It was a bluff, that was true, as neither Catherine or Janelle wanted to pursue it that far. But the bluff worked like a charm.

Scully spent the most part of the meeting waiting outside, having concluded after the first ten minutes that between Monica, Christi, and Janelle's parents they had more than enough firepower without her assistance. The principal quickly claimed ignorance as to the harassment allegedly taken place, and the teacher in question had been summoned in. After that Scully chose to wait outside with Catherine and Janelle, who were pacing in an empty meeting room opposite.

"I think they'll give in," she told them, shutting the door behind her.

Catherine looked anxious; Janelle the picture of calm courage as she leaned against the boardroom table.

"We wrote our apology," Catherine said, handing her a paper.

"We did ten drafts," Janelle said, smiling. "But this is the polite one."

Scully read the paper. It only contained one sentence, a simple statement that hitting him had been wrong, and apologising.

"It'll do," Scully said, handing it back. "I want you to know too that our offer of paid counselling still stands. For both of you."

"I think we'll be all right," Janelle said, holding Catherine's hand. "As long as it stops now."

"It will," Scully promised. "One way or another we'll make sure of that."

They stopped as the door opened and Mulder poked his head in.

"They want you to come in now."

Scully walked back in with Mulder and the two girls, into the large meeting room where the Principal was gathered with her secretary taking minutes, then Janelle's parents, Monica, John, Christi, Charlie, sitting together, with Simon and his parents on the other side. Simon was slumped moodily in his chair. His parents threw Scully a cold look as they entered, undoubtedly unhappy at turn of events. Janelle and Catherine shot all three equally lethal looks in return.

"First of all," the principal said, "we'd like to apologise for this unfortunate turn of events. We ask you to understand that it was beyond my knowledge that any of this was occurring. I hope it doesn't affect the conclusion of your education here, nor that of your siblings and cousins. And the services of our in-house counsellour are at your disposal."

"Thank you," Catherine replied.

"Other than that, I think young Simon here has something to say. As I'm sure you do yourselves."

Simon moodily pushed his chair back and crossed to them.

"I'm sorry for what I said, what I did, just everything that happened. And it won't happen again."

He practically mumbled the words, and in a rush as if hoping no one would hear them.

"I'm sorry I hit you," Catherine replied coolly, indicating she was anything but. But she nevertheless extended her hand, and Simon very briefly shook it, followed by Janelle, who also offered a bare minimum apology.

Almost immediately after, Simon and his parents left the room. They walked in stiff silence down the corridor.

"I think I need to decontaminate my hand," Janelle complained.

"It's probably the one he was wanking with," Catherine added quietly.

"You did well," Scully said bracingly.

"Very well," Christi said, coming to hug her daughter.

"Only remember, if something like this happens again, let us know straightaway," Professor Kendall said. "It'd be a lot better than learning of it six months down the track."

"We will," Janelle promised. "Thanks."

Her parents both hugged her.

"Well," Christi said, smiling for first time in three days, "Now we have the rest of the day free, what do you say to a late lunch?"

"And maybe we can go over plans for this graduation night out," Monica said, beaming.

"Only four months to go," Catherine said, looking both daunted and excited at the prospect of leaving school behind and going to college.

"It'll fly," John said. "Blink and you'll miss it."

"I hope so," Janelle said.

And there was a smile in the two girls' eyes which only Scully understood, as she felt the key to the beach house shift slightly in her pocket.

XXX

FOUR MONTHS LATER

The view from Ellian's was fantastic, and perhaps alone worth the fortune the family were paying to eat there. It was an elite restaurant, the most expensive and tasteful in Georgia, the tables were spacious and all the guests formally dressed, waiters in suits and plates and glasses all sparkling. Scully and the entire family had a long table near the window which overlooked the beautiful lights of nighttime Atlanta. It had been a long four months for Catherine and Janelle, full of mad studying long into the night as both of them strived for the perfect results they needed. But they had done well, and now they had a glorious two month break before starting at college. They were missing the Prom, but neither minded in the least at being absent from what Janelle flatly called, "A cesspool of drunken sperm."

Janelle wore a beautiful gown of gold, and had put professional waves in her honey brown hair, and Catherine wore a dress of deep blue which complimented her eyes perfectly. In Catherine's new car, which was parked just up the road, she had packed runners for the drive afterward to the beach house, and both girls' bags were already packed in the trunk. But for now they were spending the evening with family, and it had proved to be a great idea, and perhaps the most relaxing night Scully had had in months.

It was not all the family, however, who felt that way. Halfway through the main course and dessert, Nathan began fiddling with his tie. It had been the first time both Lachlan and Nathan had worn suits, and they were not impressed.

"It feels like I'm in a noose in for four hours," he complained, as Monica swatted his hand away.

"You want to be someone and get a job that pays well, then get used to it," John replied bluntly. "It's what men do."

"You should know, too, that many ladies find men in suits attractive," Lillian Kendall said, with a wink. "They like a man who wears a suit well."

Nathan dropped his hand from his tie. "Really?"

Nathan did not touch his tie for the remainder of the evening, and Scully saw Lachlan was also sitting up straighter and prouder in his chair, looking very handsome with his blonde hair and blue eyes, even at just fifteen years of age.

"Well," Professor Kendall said, looking happily up and down the table. "Shall we do speeches?"

"Absolutely," Christi agreed. "Fill your glasses."

Around the table the family filled their glasses, the adults with champagne. In the middle, Catherine and Janelle, looking stunning, were holding hands under the table, both of them their eyes sparkling at the happiest night of their lives. It had been a long road, but had been worth every step.

"All right," Charlie said, taking his glass proudly, "to Janelle and Catherine. Congratulations on finishing school. It's been a long journey, a lot of hard work and late nights, but we're all extremely proud. I couldn't be prouder of you both than I am right now. I know you'll both make brilliant doctors. And as we sit here, and see how happy and alive you both look, I think you bring joy to us all. So to Janelle and Catherine."

"Janelle and Catherine," the table echoed.

Catherine stood up, beaming, and leaned across the table to hug and kiss her father.

"Me next?" Professor Kendall asked, turning his glass around in his fingers. "I want to echo everything Charlie said. We've all watched you both work so extremely hard, and fight many obstacles and injustices you've faced over the past year. But we're all incredibly proud, and I want to congratulate you, my two favourite girls."

He raised his glass to them. Janelle had tears in her eyes.

"Thanks," Janelle said, quickly kissing both her parents. "And there's something I wanted to say too."

The family waited politely as she ducked under the table for her small gold bag. John hastily looked away as he caught an eyeful of Janelle's cleavage, but she emerged again, and it was with a small velvet box in her hand.

Christi froze, catching several pairs of eyes up and down the table all at once as Janelle pushed her chair back and with a smile got down on her knees in front of Catherine.

Scully felt her own heart stop. Christi was now shooting silent questions to Janelle's parents, who merely smiled knowingly.

Catherine's eyes were wide, unsure what to expect.

"I didn't know what to expect when I moved schools," Janelle started bravely, "leaving all my friends and other family behind in Chicago was hard. But then I met you. And somehow, wonderfully, everything changed. And since then, it's been the best year of my life. Things may have happened, but I think that's just made us stronger. And there's been so much joy it's hard for me to describe. But now that we've finished school and face the world ahead, all I can say is that I want to take this true love with me, if you'll consent."

She opened the box to reveal a stunning engagement ring. Christi's eyes nearly popped out of her head, Charlie grinned, Monica beamed and Scully felt simply stunned.

"I'd propose if I could," Janelle went on, "As it is, I'm hoping you'll accept this as a commitment ring. A symbol of love, trust, and future."

There was a silence as Catherine gazed in teary shock at the ring being presented on her knees. Then slowly she broke into a radiant smile, and leaned down to wrap her arms around her partner. Janelle rose up and the two kissed in public for the first time, arms wrapped tight and both of them crying.

Christi could contain herself no longer, and whispered to Janelle's parents, "You knew?"

Her parents grinned, Professor Kendall with his arm affectionately around his wife.

It was Lily and the younger generation who reacted fastest. As Scully and family still exchanged looks of stunned shock - easing slowly into giddy happiness - Lily got to her feet and was already rushing to congratulate them as Janelle and Catherine parted, and Janelle slipped the ring onto her finger. Lachlan followed, giving Janelle a gentlemanly kiss on the cheek, followed by Chloe, who excelled herself in a display of affection for the two girls, and then Professor Kendall as he went to wrap Catherine in a hug.

The family melted into a pile of heartwarming tears, as Christi, now crying with delight, wrapped her arms around Janelle. Scully found herself teary too. None of them had expected such an event, as they knew marriage was not possible, and the fact that Janelle loved Catherine enough to do it anyway made them giddy with love. One glance at the ring told Scully it was very expensive, perhaps more than Catherine realised, and she knew Janelle's father had obviously funded it. After another fifteen minutes the two girls went out on the private restaurant balcony to be alone, and Monica, always first on the subject of money, could hold out no longer.

"That ring cost a fortune," Monica said bluntly.

"Forget it," Lillian said, waving her down quickly. "It was our pleasure."

"She deserves ten times as much," Professor Kendall said, alive with joy. "But it was all Janelle's idea. We said nothing to her."

"She's an incredible girl," Mulder said. And indeed, Scully agreed, Janelle had a strength of character and comfort with herself that was so rare, and was what undoubtedly attracted Catherine. Janelle was eighteen with the maturity and self-confidence of a forty year old.

"We'll give Catherine the money to buy one for Janelle," Scully said. "I'll slip her my credit card. An engagement is a two way street."

"Call me ignorant," John said awkwardly, "but what's all this mean? A commitment ring? You talkin' marriage here?"

"We asked Janelle that when she first mentioned it," Professor Kendall said. "She said it's more of an engagement. A promise and a commitment. They're both still only starting college, after all."

"You know I'm crazy about Janelle," John went on. "But Catherine is still only seventeen here."

"Oh come on," Anne said dismissively. "We were only seventeen when we got engaged. It means nothing."

"You were pregnant," John said.

"And yet it's lasted," Jack said, rubbing his wife's shoulder. "Because love doesn't know age. And sometimes, there's a fortunate few in life who just know from the start. And these two are like that. When you find a good thing, you grab it before it gets away."

"I think it's beautiful," Christi said, tears in her happy eyes as she glanced out onto the balcony, where the two were holding hands and gazing over the city. "And I won't let the fact that the state doesn't recognise them stop their happiness, either. They can't have the signed paper, but if they want to down the track, we can still give them a wedding. A reception, a celebration, a honeymoon ..."

"Of course," Lillian agreed with a warm grin. "You know the paper's the most boring part."

"I love them," Scully said, as her eyes teared over. "And I wish them all the happiness in the world."

"Because it's love that carries you through," Monica said, with a warm smile at the other three survivors. "It's what life's all about."

XXX

It was three in the morning and the six adults were still lying about Scully and Mulder's living room, all still in their formal wear, however the men having removed their ties which were now slung over the coffee table. Monica had her bare feet up, Christi and Charlie were still grinning from ear to ear at the evening's events, and Scully was leaning comfortably against Mulder, her head against his chest. Catherine and Janelle had left for the beach after dinner, Scully's credit card securely in her niece's bag, and would have long arrived.

"I can't believe it," Christi said, yet again.

"It used to depress me," Charlie agreed. "I never thought they'd get to feel that joy."

"I bet they're feeling it now," Monica said, grinning. Everyone knew what the pair were likely doing - it was only inevitable with a beach house to themselves, a recent engagement, and both dressed in stunning gowns.

"I hope it's everything they've dreamt of," Mulder said.

"Better be," John said, "considering she proposed before the trial run."

"Don't be depressing," Monica scolded. "It's a beautiful thing."

They were interrupted as Scully's cell phone rang, singing out from the kitchen table.

Scully sighed and disentangled herself from Mulder.

"Who calls at this hour?" Monica wondered aloud.

Scully smiled as she recognised Catherine's name on the caller ID.

"Hey ..."

"Hey," came Catherine's whispered voice. She heard a door close gently, and then Catherine's voice became louder as she walked down a corridor. "Did I wake you?"

"No, actually, we're still up."

Scully smiled as she spotted the grins on her friend's faces. Monica mouthed, _"Catherine?" _and Scully nodded. Christi and Monica grinned at her, watching and listening.

"I just wanted to call to thank you," Catherine said, voice filled with ecstatic emotion. "I followed all your advice and I've just had the most amazing night of my life."

Scully raised an eyebrow, and tried not to laugh at the giddy delirious tone of her niece.

"Not a problem. I'm happy for you," Scully said. "More than I can say."

"And thanks for the thing you left in my bag."

"The credit card? It's no problem. Maybe you can take her down in a day or two, pick out a nice ring together."

"I didn't mean the credit card," Catherine said, lowering her voice. "I mean the other thing."

"The other thing?" Scully asked.

"It wasn't you..?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," Scully said honestly. But she lifted her eyes and saw Christi had a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud, and Monica was grinning mischieviously ear to ear.

"Someone left a thing in my bag," Catherine said in a soft voice. "A toy ..."

"Yeah," Scully said, throwing a questioning look to Christi and Monica. "I think I know what you mean now."

"Well anyway," Catherine said, carrying on and too giddy to launch an investigation. "I love you. Thanks."

"My pleasure," Scully said. "But maybe you should get back to her before you're missed."

"I will," Catherine said. "I love you, Aunt Dana."

Scully smiled. "I love you too."

She hung up and then turned slowly to the others.

"Would one of you like to confess?"

"Confess to what?" John asked, confused.

Scully gave a stern look between Monica and Christi.

"Don't look at me," Monica said. "I'm innocent."

"Really?" John asked, giving her a cheeky look. "First I've heard of it."

Christi was still grinning. "Don't look at me, I married a Catholic. I'm a good girl."

"Yeah?" Charlie asked, giving her a squeeze around her slim middle. "Maybe I should take a confession."

"How'd she take it?" Monica asked, looking thoroughly amused.

"Well," Scully said. "Giddy, I think."

"You being naughty?" Mulder asked.

"Oh come on," Christi said, getting up to get a drink. "Dana knows about physics, we know about sex. Between us, we've got it all covered."

* * *

_Thanks to a cold, I've been off work for the past two days and stuck in bed with nothing better to do than to write this. I hope you enjoyed it. These three stories posted are the three I was burning to write; I have no immediate plans for other ideas, but maybe more will come and the series might continue, who knows? Either way thanks for the support of my feedbacking readers - you guys are fabulous!_


	4. Scent of a Woman

_This chapter deals with some subject matter which there is a chance some readers will find disturbing. Mature people only, please. Be warned of sexual references._

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* * *

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MELTING HEARTS DOMESTIC BLISS: Scent of a Woman

Years after the trauma, long after they had first brushed the snow off their jackets and thawed out their sanity again, things had settled into a comfortable routine for the Doggett-Scully family in Atlanta. Without consciously planning it, the foursome's lives had settled into a pleasant domestic monotony. The sun rose and set over the extended family's four houses, and with it each day came the bustle and trivial issues of family life. There were Monica and John's two kids - eleven year old Lily and nine year old Nathan. Lily, the former mute now a smiling and gentle girl on the brink of puberty; her brother a tousel-haired basketball lover with a budding will of his own. Scully and Mulder did not have kids of their own - their house being a refuge of peace and quiet - but were in any case involved daily in the lives of not only Lily and Nathan, but also of Christi and Charlie's three children. Chloe and Lachlan, whose ages mirrored those of their cousins, were both Doggetts by nature, but Catherine, the intellectual and a year older than the rest, was a Scully through and through, and also the one who forced Scully to constantly hide her sense of favouritism.

And yet amongst the school runs, loads of washing, the calls to tie up shoelaces or hurry up and get in the car, there were moments when the skies clouded over, and the sun's rays previously warming their living rooms disappeared behind grey skies and chilly winds. Many times it was the trauma of their pasts which reared its many ugly heads, but as a family they were used to this, and even this had now fallen into a routine. There were hugs, blankets wrapped around shaking shoulders, talks with Deirdre in upstairs bedrooms. In the twelve years since the accident, she had always been available in her profession as a psychologist. She was John's aunt, Anne's sister, but having no family of her own she had become a central part of their lives. She was their stalwart protector, the one who had spent countless hours listening to horrific memories, steadily holding a hand while any one of them poured their heart out. She had never wavered in her professionalism; her expression one of calm understanding and eternal patience as her blue eyes focused on them from behind her glasses.

The fact that Deirdre had never gotten around to seizing a life of her own was something none of them had ever spent too much time thinking about. Scully knew that Deirdre had spent her younger days helping Anne raise John, after Anne had unexpectedly fallen pregnant out of wedlock at the tender age of seventeen. Deirdre's twenties had therefore been lost in a flurry of diapers and babysitting, studying her college textbooks while bottle-feeding her nephew. Whether this had put her off domestic life or whether she had just never gotten around to having one of her own was unknown, but Scully had long accepted it. It was not until one fall twelve years after the accident that the skies once again clouded their lives, and they learned that even Deirdre had her breaking point.

For Scully at least, it felt as if it came out of nowhere. There had been no clues to see it coming. The day before she arrived home to find Deirdre upset, she had appeared fine. She was talkative and sociable, around to share dinner with them at least three times a week. And then on the day the trouble erupted, Scully had walked into Monica's living room, setting her case down and at once seeing Deirdre was quiet in an armchair. This in itself was not unusual, yet there was something strange in the sullen way she was staring at the TV- as though without really seeing it - that had worried Scully. Then too was the fact that she sat there alone, the rest of the family talking in the kitchen. They were only separated by a few metres, but Deirdre was a world away.

As Scully shedded her coat she saw Monica approach and gently take Deirdre's arm to break her reverie. She jumped slightly and then looked up as though surprised to see Monica standing there, brown eyes bearing down in concern.

"I'm fine," Deirdre said, smiling professionally. She got to her feet to prove it, following Monica back to the kitchen to help with the meal. Scully knew it was a lie, but was in no position to press her. Anne could have easily broken down her sister's walls, but for once Anne and Jack were not around, having left for a three day mini-break to the beach house the day before.

"You seem quiet," Scully commented, as she joined them.

Deirdre smiled away her concern. "Just a long day."

Across the room Scully caught Mulder's eyes and knew at once that Deirdre's withdrawn body language had not gone unnoticed by him either. He touched his hand warmly to Deirdre's back as he passed her, in a show of solidarity for whatever trying patient she had endured at her clinic in the city that day. A moment later Christi raised the issue of who would give the two boys a lift to the acquatic centre for their swimming lesson the next day, and the enigma of Deirdre's silence was quickly lost in the onslaught of arrangements.

But then, at that stage they had had no reason to think any differently.

XXX

For Scully, the enigma of Deirdre's behaviour became steadily more puzzling over the following few hours, her suspicion that something was wrong solidifying into certainty. Nothing Deirdre did painted it in a neon sign, but it was evident in the small details which caught Scully's eye: she would participate in conversation but not initiate one, she sighed with a heavy weariness that rarely befell her, and seemed far too absorbed in her meal. The confirmation had come when time marched on and Deirdre failed to make her usual move to drive home and call it a night, instead hanging around with Scully in the kitchen, who was putting away the last plate in a cupboard. Scully realised then that they were alone; the rest of the family out of sight in the living room or having already returned to their own houses for the night.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Scully asked, voice low so the others would not hear.

Deirdre edged closer, casting a guarded glance behind her. When she answered she spoke quietly.

"I wanted to ask your opinion on something."

Her body language indicated she did not want to say any more within earshot of the others, and so with immediate concern Scully nodded, leading Deirdre to slip out the back door and, in the cool moonlight, through the gate in the fence to her and Mulder's silent house. When they were inside they headed automatically upstairs to the spare bedroom, which had long become ground zero for personal conversations with Deirdre. It was there that Scully and Mulder confided in her. The small single bed had borne the weight of twelve years' worth of pain, but never had the pain been Deirdre's.

Scully shut the door behind them and side by side they sat on the bed. During the short trip from next door, Deirdre had recovered her composure, looking as professional and calm as she had always been.

"I just need your professional opinion," Deirdre stated. "It's a matter at work. A patient of mine."

"I'm listening," Scully said, shifting to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. The bed was only used once a month by Catherine, in her and Scully's precious aunt-niece girls' nights.

"This needs to be just between us. Technically I'm in breach of privacy mentioning this to you at all."

Scully nodded. She saw a look of slight nervousness creep into Deirdre's face and briefly rubbed her knee, willing it away.

"Tell me how I can help," she said.

"It's a male patient of mine," Deirdre started. "He's aged in his mid-forties, single, no ex-wife or kids. He's worked as a mechanic for the last twenty years, seems very quiet, anti-social, internally aggressive. He's been referred to me by his GP, on behalf of his employer. They have concerns about his interactions in the workplace, comments that are considered inappropriate, increasing erratic behaviour and unreliability. I consulted with him for the first time this morning. At this stage I have my suspicions about Bipolar."

Scully nodded along. Nothing so far sounded the least bit unusual in Deirdre's line of work. For the last forty years she had worked with the psychologically ill. She had treated people from all walks of life, and probed every psychiatric disease ever documented.

"What's the problem?" she asked.

Deirdre hesitated, taking an awkward breath and appearing to choose her words carefully while focusing on the beige carpet at their feet. It was as if she hoped to pluck the right words from between the worn threads.

"He exhibited some strange behaviour to examination," she said finally.

"In what way?"

"He volunteered some graphic detail in regards to his sexual desires, his appetites and preferences. Normally it doesn't bother me to discuss a patient's sex life - it's a part of being human. I'm not a sex therapist but I help where I can. But usually when I'm asked to advise or counsel a matter regarding a sexual relationship I'm not dragged into the bed with them."

Scully stared, incredulous and immediately alarmed. She searched for a way she could have misinterpreted Deirdre's words, but found none, and the worst was confirmed in Deirdre's unsettled expression. She instantly put her hand back on Deirdre's knee, and with an effort fought to gain control of her own emotions.

"Are you saying he harassed you?"

Deirdre sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing her tired eyes with one hand.

"He didn't lay a hand on me, if that's what you mean. He didn't come any closer than a handshake at the beginning and end of consultation. But he didn't hold back when it came to complimenting my anatomy, and his eyes spent an inappropriate amount of time on my chest. I sat with my legs crossed for the first five minutes, and I'll admit I didn't realise at first that he was staring straight up my skirt."

Scully stared. She realised her mouth was hanging open slightly, and fought to close it as a thousand questions and concerns fought for attention.

"I told him his comments in relation to me were inappropriate," Deirdre went on. "And after that he toned it down. I don't know if he got the message. But either way I wanted to tell someone, just in case."

Scully nodded. "Of course. I'm glad you did."

There was a momentary pause as they both collected their thoughts.

"Perhaps you should be declining to treat him," Scully ventured.

Deirdre shook her head. "He's in need of treatment. It's the reason he was referred to me. I can't turn away a patient simply because I don't like them."

"Yet his treatment can't be effective unless you develop a good rapport," Scully argued. "If you're uncomfortable or being treated inappropriately then I can't see that being established. He may be better off in the hands of another practitioner. A male psychiatrist, perhaps."

Deirdre sighed. She was quiet for a moment.

"He's probably harmless," she concluded at last.

"I doubt that," Scully said to herself, thinking aloud. "When's your next appointment?"

"Noon on Wednesday," Deirdre answered.

"You don't have to treat someone if your own safety is at risk," Scully said firmly. "There are more appropriate places and situations for him to gain the help he needs. If I were you I'd be putting in a call to the GP, finding a more appropriate arrangement."

Deirdre nodded absently. After a moment she took a deep breath.

"You're probably right. Perhaps I'll call them tomorrow."

"Make sure you do," Scully said gently, rubbing her knee. "In the meantime ... how do you feel? Are you all right?"

In her mind she heard herself asking the question exactly as Deirdre usually asked it of her. Whenever she felt an anxiety attack, whenever a nightmare caught her in its icy chains or the memories eased in during her work day, Deirdre was there, one hand on her knee and asking her to verbalise how she felt. The role reversal felt strange.

"I'm fine I think," Deirdre replied. "Mainly I'm hoping that we can keep this to ourselves. You know what John's like. If he gets wind of it he's likely to dash off, storm his way into my office, pin him down and punch him senseless."

Privately, Scully found herself thinking that it would probably be a good idea. She could not help smiling a little at the thought. Simultaneously she found herself doubting that Deirdre was as fine as she insisted. She was still slightly avoiding Scully's eyes, instead staring morosely at the carpet and wardrobe opposite.

"Why don't you stay here tonight? Have some company."

"No." Deirdre squeezed her knee in thanks, but was already rising to her feet to prove herself. "I should be getting home."

"Are you sure? You're more than welcome to stay. I think it might be a good idea."

"Thanks, but I'm fine," Deirdre said, slipping on her glasses with a smile. "He's not the first man to lust after me, even at my age. But I assure you I won't be giving him any more of my time."

XXX

The Atlanta Mental Health Clinic rented a floor in an old office building two blocks down from the FBI Field Office. Twenty years ago, when Gordon had first started practicing there, it had been little more than one consulting room with a secondhand reception desk. But in recent years the field of psychology and counselling had gained increasing respect from the public, the stigma of mental illness which had rampaged in the early twentieth century had dissolved to the point where no one hesitated to seek guidance through their problems. Victims of depression, crime, trauma, and family issues all found their way to the clinic, and the bustling clinic now hosted nine full-time practitioners. Deirdre was one of those practitioners, his good friend and long-time colleague who had been with him virtually from the start. She was also very successful, and this showed in her six week long waiting list. The only time he had ever seen her slow down was when her nephew John and his three colleagues had crashed in the mountains. He had supported her then, had been the only one she had allowed in through her defences. He remembered vividly sitting on the worn brown couch in her consulting room, his arm around her shoulders as she wearily confided in him horrors beyond anything he had heard before. For a long time he had expected her to resign and retreat to caring for them full-time, but she had succeeded in the impossible, in getting their lives back on track, and had returned to work stronger, wiser, and more of a workaholic than ever before.

Today, his patient was an overweight, middle-aged accountant whose life seemed to falling apart on several fronts. He no longer enjoyed his work - dreading the long days locked into an industry he no longer cared about - his two teenagers were out of control and his marriage was falling apart. Five weeks ago he had hurt his knee, and this had been the proverbial straw which had broken the camel's back. Gordon sat in his chair, listening intently as the man described his latest fight with his wife, until a muffled shout hit his ears.

He stopped, suddenly on high alert. Opposite him his client raised his head, giving a querying look.

"Did you hear that?" Gordon asked him.

The patient looked blank, and Gordon got to his feet, opening his door to the hallway, glancing both ways. Off to his left was the waiting room, a queue building in front of the reception desk, where both secretaries were on the phones. The murmur of the waiting room indicated nothing unusual, but then it hadn't sounded as though it had come from that direction. To his right were doors leading to three other consulting rooms, including Deirdre's, and all were currently occupied. But there was not a sound in that direction, either. Perhaps he had imagined it, he thought. Perhaps it had been a child in the waiting room play corner. He went to shut his door again when he heard an unpleasant thud from behind Deirdre's door.

This time his patient had heard it too. Gordon walked forward and knocked on Deirdre's door.

There was no immediate reply. He knocked again.

"Is everything okay in there?"

To his right another of his colleagues had poked her head out. She looked just as confused and concerned as he felt himself.

He knocked a third time to announce he was going to come in, and cracked the door open. What he saw made him throw it open with a crash into the wall behind.

Deirdre was standing behind her consulting couch, locked from behind in an aggressive full-body hold by her patient. He was tall and strong, and with one hand clamped over her mouth he tilted her head back onto his shoulder. His thick arms were like tree trunks around her thin frame, and she was powerless to pry him off her. As Gordon crashed the door open, the man's other free hand was roughly groping her left breast, and his hungry face was taking pleasure in her terror and his dominance. A small side table was toppled over on the floor, and had evidently been the thump Gordon had heard.

"GET OFF OF HER!" Gordon roared, surging forward to grab an arm. Behind him his own patient rushed forward to assist, his other female colleague taking one glance and rushing to summon help. Between them they managed to pry his arms away, and after a few seconds of wrestling Deirdre pulled herself out of his grasp, stumbling several steps away to the safety of the other side of the couch. In the same moment help arrived from the waiting room, but as Gordon slackened his grip on the man he broke free again, and resisting a citizen's arrest he used his large frame to bulldoze his way back down the hallway and out of sight. Gordon heard the man's thudding feet bolt from the Clinic, and there was a telling thud of the fire escape.

Suddenly there was silence, the room and hallway full of people, all watching Deirdre who was standing in shock, eyes going blankly from one to the next, her body trembling. Gordon glanced her over. Her clothes - her blouse and pants - were completely askew, but he was at least glad that none of the buttons appeared to be undone.

"I'll call the police," his female colleague said, turning to edge her way back through the crowd.

"No," Deirdre said firmly, raising a hand.

Their colleague hesitated.

"_Don't_," Deirdre reiterated, now trying to avoid the dozen pairs of eyes locked onto her. "I'm fine."

Their receptionist Marianne pointed toward to the phone. "We should -"

"_No_," Deirdre said again. This time her firmness struck them, and Gordon saw his colleagues' mouths fall closed. No one wanted to start an argument with her, and they settled for catching each other's eyes, searching for a consensus.

Gordon stepped forward and held up a placating hand. "Perhaps if we can just have a moment."

Marianne nodded, as if suddenly realising what a staring crowd they were. She started to wordlessly usher the patients from the waiting room back up the hallway again, until only Gordon and his young female colleague Jayne remained. Gordon shut the door to offer Deirdre some privacy. Jayne was already leading Deirdre to sit down, where she sank with a hand over her eyes. Gordon saw her body was still trembling in shock, as if struggling to absorb what had just happened.

Gordon joined them, sitting down on her coffee table.

"We should call the police," he pressed gently. "They can still catch him."

Deirdre huffed sceptically from behind her hand. "And what? Force it to court so he can get a slap on the wrist? A restraining order and recommendation for psychiatric evaluation?"

Gordon sighed. Though his morals disagreed with not calling for help, he knew she was right in her assessment. He had touched her, but - as far as he could tell - had not physically harmed her. He was known to be psychiatrically ill, and the case would fall over even in the slightest breeze.

"At least let us call an ambulance," Gordon said, watching her shake beneath Jayne's comforting hand. "Let them take a look at you."

Deirdre shook her head without comment.

"I'm calling _someone_," he insisted.

There was a pause.

"Come on," Jayne said, rubbing her back a little. "A family member?"

At last Deirdre sighed.

"Dana," she said, voice trembling even in those two syllables. "Her number's in my purse."

"All right," Gordon said. He stood up, found her personal bag under her desk, and pulled out her black purse. He knew about Dana Scully, both medical doctor and FBI employee. He just hoped he'd be able to get hold of her.

XXX

Scully marched into the Atlanta Mental Health Clinic, her heels clicking authoriatively against the floor. Her FBI Identification bounced against her chest, and as she hurried through the doors, the crowd of waiting patients parted for her like Moses and the Red Sea. She had been finishing up her last patient in her Wednesday role as an FBI doctor when Gordon had called. He had not told her the full story - only that she had been attacked, but not raped, and the letch had fled into the streets of Atlanta. Scully had snatched up her things and marched straight over. The Clinic receptionist took one glance at her and pointed up the corridor to the consulting rooms. Scully did not even slow down as she continued walking in that direction. She knew where Deirdre's room was, had spent a few consulting hours in there herself.

"Dana," a man said, coming to meet her in the corridor with his hand outstretched. Scully automatically shook it, knowing this man must be Gordon. She had heard Deirdre mention him on occasion, but had never met him herself. He dressed like an old professor whose fashion sense had not moved with the times, but appeared kind and relieved to see her.

"What happened?" Scully asked. She kept her voice low, aware the door to the room was open only a little away, and knowing Deirdre was inside.

"She was attacked by a patient," he explained. "I heard an odd noise, went to investigate, found her trapped in his arms. He had one hand on her mouth, one on her breast before we pried him off. He bolted into the street. She won't let us call the police."

Scully nodded.

"What happened before you interrupted? Has she said?"

Gordon shrugged. "She's not inviting questions."

Scully took a deep breath, getting her bearings. "I'll handle it from here. I'll need to talk to her alone."

He nodded and led her into the room. Scully saw Deirdre on her old brown couch, head resting in one hand. At a glance it appeared she had been quiet for several minutes, and that another woman, much younger, was keeping her company awaiting Scully's arrival. Deirdre did not look up as Scully put her things down and gently edged her way into the room. Gordon summoned the other woman to give them some space, and the two left, closing the door behind them. Scully sat down on the coffee table at Deirdre's knees, carefully reaching a hand to her forearm.

"It's okay," she said, gently easing Deirdre from her hiding place. "It's all right."

Deirdre reluctantly met her eyes, and Scully saw at once she was in shock. Her blue eyes, normally so calm, were almost trembling with the reverberations of the incident. She was dressed only in a white blouse and black pants, but through the blouse Scully could see her tense posture, and she was shivering even though the room was warm. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair was dishevelled from the attack, as if the man had gripped her with it. She glanced at the door, and Scully knew what was on her mind.

"It's all right," Scully said, gently squeezing her arm. "We're alone."

She moved her fingers to Deirdre's wrist, and as she expected found her pulse was in a full sprint. The fact that Deirdre had also not said a word spoke volumes.

"You're in shock," Scully said.

She stood and reached for a colourful throw rug on the back of the couch, and wrapped it snug around Deirdre's trembling shoulders. She rubbed her back and then sat back down, holding one of her hands. It would do no good to delay the inevitable.

"I'm going to ask you some questions," she said gently. "I need you to try your best to answer them. It's just between us. Okay?"

Deirdre nodded. Scully saw she was trying her best to pull herself together, but was struggling in her shock.

"Did he rape you?"

"No," Deirdre said, and she sighed with apparent relief. "No."

Scully nodded. "Did he hit you?"

"No," Deirdre said, taking a steadying breath. "But he was rough."

"Do you have any injuries? Are you in any pain?"

Deirdre shook her head.

"I know he touched you," Scully said gently. "Did his hands go inside your clothes?"

Again, Deirdre slightly shook her head. But her silence indicated to Scully that she had hit a nerve. Scully rubbed her forearm for a moment, then tightened her grip on her hand.

"Can you tell me where he touched you?"

Deirdre avoided her eyes. Scully chose not to rush her.

"All over," Deirdre said, directing the statement at a dusty patch of carpet in the corner of the room. "He was rough."

Scully's sharp mind noted that it was the second time she had said that. She toyed with the idea of persuading her to go to the police - or even a hospital - but discarded the idea as soon as it came. She knew from Deirdre's body language that she would shoot it down immediately. Deirdre was a Doggett by nature, and had the capacity to be every bit as stubborn as her nephew John. Even if Scully forced her to a hospital, she was likely to walk out as soon as Scully's back was turned.

"I'm going to take you home," Scully said. "Do you have any patients booked for this afternoon?"

Deirdre nodded, glancing at the clock.

"I should have started five minutes ago."

She took a deep breath, sitting up so the rug slipped a little. Scully saw where this was going and immediately made to head her off.

"I'm driving you home," Scully said firmly. "I'm going to ask your secretary to reschedule your appointments. I want you to just sit here for a minute while I go make arrangements, and then we're going to walk to your car, and I'm driving you back to my place."

"_No_," Deirdre said, looking as though there was nothing she wanted to do less. "I can't bear the attention. Not right now."

Scully knew that feeling perfectly well, having experienced it hundreds of times over the last twelve years. She had a powerful love for the family, but it was true that they were fiercely protective of each other, and she knew they would take one look at Deirdre and know something had happened. They would not rest until they knew what, and Deirdre was not ready to take the pressure. All she wanted was to lie down.

"I promise they won't ask any questions," Scully said. "I won't let them. Okay? Not until you're ready."

Deirdre still hesitated.

"And I won't tell them," Scully went on. "Everything you've told me has been in confidence, and I won't breach it."

After another moment, Deirdre finally nodded.

"All right," Scully said. "I'll be right back."

XXX

Scully explained the situation to the secretary Marianne, who nodded that it was no problem and hoped Deirdre would be all right, and then she made her way out into the lift lobby, where she pulled out her cell phone and dialled Monica's number. She answered before the first ring had finished.

"Hey," she said happily.

Scully could hear the fast tapping of a computer keyboard in the background. Monica was evidently absorbed in her full time role as financial manager to the family's wealth. She could picture her with the cell phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, as she focused on the screen through her reading glasses.

"Hey," Scully replied.

"What's the matter?" Monica asked immediately, hearing her depressed tone. "Are you all right?"

The tapping ceased.

"I need a favour," Scully said. "No questions asked."

"Anything," Monica replied, voice laced with concern.

"I need you to call Mulder and John, tell them I won't be coming home from work with them tonight. And before you ask, it's because I'm at Deirdre's clinic, and I'm driving her home to our house. We'll be there in about an hour. When we get there, I don't want anyone asking any questions or forcing her to talk."

Monica's concern suddenly intensified. "What's happened? Is she all right?"

"I can't tell you that," Scully said with a sigh. "But she's not feeling a hundred percent, and the last thing she needs is an inquisition. She needs some space. Make sure everyone knows."

The line was quiet.

"Okay?"

"You're scaring me," Monica complained.

"I need you to trust me, Monica," Scully said.

"I do," Monica said. "But -"

"Thank you," Scully finished, and hit the end call button. Slipping the phone back into her inside pocket, she hurried back to collect Deirdre.

XXX

An hour later when Scully arrived home, she was relieved to find that there was no crowd waiting for them. Monica had evidently spread the word, and the family had chosen to respect Scully's advice. She led Deirdre upstairs to the spare room, knowing she wanted to lie down for a while, and began to turn down the blankets for her, wondering in the back of her mind when she had last changed the sheets. Deirdre had been silent the entire drive home, but Scully knew this was to be expected. She had tried to offer what comfort she could, holding her hand or rubbing her knee as traffic allowed, and had turned on a classical music station, hoping the melodic waltzes of Strauss would relax her. It was hard to tell what Deirdre was feeling, but she took it as good news that she stopped shivering, and though she wasn't keen on conversation, she appeared a lot more relaxed now she was out of the office and away from the scene of the crime. She closed her eyes after ten minutes, and did not open them until they pulled into Scully's garage.

Nevertheless, though she had improved it was clear that she was not her normal self. As Scully finished turning down the blankets and fluffing the pillow, she realised Deirdre had already lowered her pants, beyond caring that the bedroom door was still wide open. Scully elected not to show her concern, instead she was professional as she played along, folding her pants over the armchair and then her blouse when Deirdre stripped it off. Deirdre then laid her watch, necklace and glasses on the nightstand and sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed in her plain bra and underwear.

"I'm fine," Deirdre said. "I just want to lay down for an hour."

"Of course," Scully said. "And you know I'm here if you want to talk. When you're ready."

Deirdre nodded.

Scully had not pushed her to talk yet about what had happened, knowing that she was not ready. The family knew everything there was to know about trauma, and one thing they had all long learned was not to push people into talking before they were ready for it. As a doctor, she knew that Deirdre's mind was overwhelmed with what had just happened, and hence the instinctive urge to lie down and sleep for an hour. She was also curious by Deirdre's lack of hesitation in shedding her clothes. It was almost as if she could feel the stain of his hands on her blouse and pants, and had Scully not folded them over a chair, she speculated that Deirdre would have left them on the floor and not bothered to pick them up ever again.

Running with this theory, she said, "I'll ask Anne for some clothes you can borrow."

"Thanks," Deirdre said, nodding her gratitude.

Knowing now she had guessed right, she added professionally, "Would you like me to find you some clean underwear?"

"No," Deirdre said. "I'm fine." She eyed the clothes on the armchair. "Just throw them out."

Scully nodded. She would not throw them out, but would remove them from her sight.

"I was hoping later I could have a shower," Deirdre ventured. "I've always found there's something therapeutic about hot water."

"Of course," Scully said. "Whenever you're ready. I'll leave you a fresh towel."

After that Deirdre seemed to have exhausted her interest in conversation, and slipped into the bed. She rolled on her side and closed her eyes. Scully stayed for a moment, but after only a few minutes she was sure she was asleep, and she retreated, closing the door behind her.

XXX

In the end, Deirdre slept several hours longer than Scully had expected. Whilst she would normally go next door to Monica's or Christi's to socialise, that afternoon she instead stayed in her own living room. The pretense was so she could work, her real reason so she could keep an eye on Deirdre. She had told Monica and Anne upon arriving home that Deirdre just wanted some space for a while. As she had expected, they had wanted to know what had happened, but Scully informed them she had given her word, and that she would keep it. They had been both worried and a little annoyed at her stonewalling, but had played along. Nevertheless when Scully asked Anne for some clothes Deirdre could borrow, Monica's eyes narrowed in concern in an expression that mirrored her former career as an FBI agent. There were only so many reasons that Deirdre would need a change of clothes, and she was evidently wondering what had happened to those Deirdre had been wearing. As Monica's eyes studied her, Scully had turned away. She felt sometimes as if Monica could read her mind.

Other family members arrived home steadily throughout the afternoon, first Christi and Charlie and the five kids, all home from school, and towards evening Mulder and John. They had all rushed in, with varying degrees of concern and urgency, and had all tried to prise the truth from her. The difference was that when Scully told Mulder, Monica and John that she would not break her word, they understood at once. All of them had shared deep confidences with Deirdre in their treatment over the years, and they knew the weight and meaning of promised silence and discretion. They could not turn down Deirdre when she had asked the same sensitivity of them. Instead, they set up camp in the living room. John removed his tie and flung it over her kitchen bench, and then flopped down on her sofa, socked feet on her coffee table, all with an air of not moving until Deirdre appeared again. Anne, who had been silent with worry since Scully's phone call, perched in an armchair. Though she pretended to take interest in the black and white Western on television, her eyes repeatedly turned toward the top of the stairs. Mulder, after spending several minutes wordlessly studying Scully's body language, elected that he would not worry until he knew what was going on; he tore open a fresh bag of sunflower seeds and cracked one between his teeth. Christi and Charlie could also not help gravitating to where the crowd was, and all in all the only ones who remained carefree were the kids, and Jack. The kids did not know any different, Jack said flatly that it was none of their business unless Deirdre chose to make it their business, and until then they should respect her request for privacy and leave her the hell alone. If anyone wanted him, he would be in his garage, servicing his car.

It wasn't until just after six o'clock that Scully suddenly caught sight of Deirdre. She had slipped out of the spare bedroom, and paused on her way to the bathroom to glance at the crowd waiting for her. She was still only in her lingerie, the clothes Anne had loaned and which Scully had left on the armchair now hanging over her arm. Evidently she had not expected such an audience in the two metres to the bathroom door. She moved so silently, however, that Scully was only one who saw her, and got to her feet to go check on her just as Deirdre disappeared into the bathroom.

When she knocked on the door, Deirdre let her in, looking half amused and half exasperated.

"I see the Swiss Guard are on parade downstairs."

"They're concerned," Scully said. "They want to know what happened."

Deirdre nodded to herself as she laid the change of clothes on the bathroom bench. Scully saw that she looked much better; the sleep had evidently done her good.

"How are you feeling?" Scully asked.

Deirdre shrugged, but it was with a smile as she perched on the edge of the bath beside Scully.

"I feel a lot better actually. I don't know what came over me earlier. Shock, I suppose."

"You know that's normal," Scully said, giving her bare knee a brief squeeze. "Considering what you went through."

She left the statement hanging, an invitation for Deirdre to fill her in. Deirdre, unfortunately, did not seem keen to take her up on it.

"I just want to forget about it."

Scully studied her a moment, assessing the sincerity of this statement. Deirdre's real feelings were evident when she still wouldn't meet her eyes.

"If you're sure," Scully said slowly, "and that's how genuinely feel, then I won't say another word about it. But I don't want you saying that simply because you think it's eaiser to deny your feelings, or too hard to face the concern downstairs. You know that won't work."

Deirdre had been the one who had drummed this into all four of the survivors after the crash. She had forced Scully, in particular, to come clean with her feelings, to express them and deal with them, and not dodge them like an obstacle course. As she said this, she saw Deirdre sigh, knowing she was right. What the man had done evidently bothered her. What bothered her more was the fact that she _was _bothered by it.

"Look," Scully said, taking her hand. "You haven't told me everything that he did. But I know he touched you, and it's perfectly normal to feel violated. It wasn't only unwelcome, it was a violent assault. It's natural to feel bothered by that. You can't invalidate your feelings."

Deirdre did not react to her words, but Scully was certain she had absorbed them. Silence reigned for a long moment, Deirdre deep in thought, the murmur of discussion and gunshots of the Western distant downstairs.

When Deirdre at last spoke, it was a neutral tone - flat as if looking back on the events with detachment.

"It was the end of the consultation," she said. "It hadn't gone particularly well. I hadn't been keen on seeing him at all, but I hadn't been able to get through to the GP to make other arrangements, and there was no choice but to proceed. But I went in there firm. I kept him on topic, indicated clearly what was off limits. When he grabbed me, it was the end of the consultation, I'd been shaking his hand."

Scully listened intently, holding Deirdre's hand.

"He pinned me behind the couch. He had his hand over my mouth so I couldn't shout for help. It sounds strange, but he really stank. Dirt, sweat and body odour. I couldn't fight him off. He was strong. I'd wondered what he wanted. But then he started touching me. His hand was rough between my legs, groping me. He was talking obscenities in my ear as he felt me, saying how much I needed it, asking when I'd last been fucked. He knew I was single, started speculating about my bedroom habits, whether I pleasure myself. He pulled me back hard against his crotch. And it was erect."

Scully struggled to keep her own feelings in check. She wished now they had called the police immediately.

"He kept talking as his hand went all over me. He groped my buttocks, my breasts, my thighs, mostly between my legs. He told me he was going to fuck me, that I'd enjoy it. He told me in detail. That I wouldn't fight him. That he'd fuck me from behind and afterwards I'd thank him for it." There was a pause. Deirdre's eyes were filled with tears. "I'd known he was ill. I didn't know he was quite that disturbed. If Gordon hadn't come in he would've raped me right then. I probably owe him my life."

Scully had no idea what to say. Shock was reverberating throughout her senses. She was looking at Deirdre through wet eyes.

"And don't start talking about the police again," Deirdre said, with sudden force. "You can force me to go, but I'll refuse to make a statement."

Scully nodded. She understood, even if she didn't agree. The justice system was painful and humiliating for victims of sexual assault. Their emotional pain was often so great that they found it easier to let the perpretrator go than to stand up and give a detailed account in court, to have it stretch on for months as it trundled through the legal system.

She could not force her.

"Okay," she agreed. "But I think the family needs to know. Especially Anne. You can't hide this from them, and their support might help."

Deirdre stared at the tiles on the floor. After a long moment she looked up.

"Maybe later," she said.

"I think you need to," Scully pressed.

Deirdre nodded, but got suddenly to her feet and busied herself with preparing her shower. She slid open the door and grabbed a washcloth.

Scully gave her a firm look. From downstairs came a shout from Nathan as he searched for his Dad.

"Maybe later," Deirdre repeated. "When the kids are in bed."

XXX

Deirdre's shower was long, and in the half hour in which Scully waited downstairs they had prepared the evening meal for the family. Whether the duration of the shower was because Deirdre did in fact find the hot water and steamy bathroom therapeutic, or whether she felt "dirty" after the assault was unknown, but Scully made no issue of it and tried to remain cheerful in spite of everything she had just heard. It was not easy.

When Deirdre did at last poke her head out, hair wet and dressed in her sister's clothes, all five kids were in the living room, and their presence was effective in preventing questions. She also made such a show of sauntering down the stairs with a smile that everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. The kitchen bench was covered in serving bowls of vegetables, fries and meat. Tonight everyone would help themselves. Scully noticed all the adults in the family were watching Deirdre carefully, but she merely smiled as she joined them.

"You hungry?" Christi greeted, handing her a plate.

"Famished," Deirdre replied.

Beside her Anne's arm went around her sister's shoulders in a silent message that whatever had happened, they were there for her. The crowd lapsed into a conspicuous silence as they watched her, and after an awkward moment Charlie broke the silence, directing his attention to Chloe and asking if she had passed her history test that day.

"I don't know," Chloe shrugged, ignoring him.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Christi asked, backing him up. "The teacher graded it, didn't she?"

"It's not like it matters," Chloe said. "It's just about dead people and stuff."

Monica looked amused. "'Dead people and stuff'?"

The argument waged on, and while Chloe steadily lost ground, Deirdre walked to the sink, grabbing a clean glass and pouring herself a drink of water. John, who had not said a word and had been radiating concern in her direction for the last two minutes, walked up behind her and took her shoulders, intending to give them a bit of a massage.

The effect was instantaneous. Deirdre tensed, turned, and eyes wild, threw him off her, holding up a hand to keep him at bay. John held up his hands innocently and took a step back.

Silence gripped the room. In its throbbing moments, Scully saw horrified understanding creep into the eyes of the adults.

Scully looked to the kids, rounding them up with her eyes.

"Go next door," she ordered.

Lachlan looked at her, annoyed. "Why?"

"_Go_," Monica ordered.

All five kids were annoyed and did not understand, but they left under Monica and Scully's firm looks.

When they were gone and they heard the tell-tale click of the latch on the side gate, the few seconds felt like forever. Deirdre stood there, eyes now glistening, realising what she had done. John's eyes were equally wet as he stared in horror at what he knew now had to be true. He had wondered before when she had needed to borrow Anne's clothes. Now her reaction left no room for doubt.

"Who did it to you?" he asked He looked simultaneously about to cry on her behalf, and ready to murder whoever she named.

Scully stepped forward and put a careful hand on Deirdre's arm.

"It's not what you think," Scully told them.

"It's not assault?" Jack asked.

Deirdre sighed. She closed her eyes, wishing she just about anywhere else.

"He didn't rape me," she said, lifting her eyes to her stricken sister. "It was just an unwelcome advance."

Monica did not believe this polite take on things for a second, and Scully did not blame her.

"An unwelcome advance?" Monica repeated. "He didn't attack you?"

Deirdre turned away at the words. Anne eased from her shock enough to come stand by her side, very gently putting an arm around her.

John was growing angrier by the second. "What's his name?"

Deirdre did not reply.

"He has a name, right?" John demanded.

Deirdre nodded absently. "Bernard Roach. He's a patient of mine."

John marched for the door.

"John!" Monica called.

"Take care of her," he ordered, and slammed his way out.

"What's he gonna do?" Charlie asked. "String him up from a tree?"

Scully threw a pleading look to Mulder, and he nodded, following John out the door.

"Come sit down," Anne said. Gently, slowly, she led her sister over to Scully's suite, sitting her down with an arm around her shoulders. Anne mouthed something to Christi. Scully did not understand, but Christi nodded and left the room.

"All right," Anne said, as the rest of them sat around them, Monica also with an arm around her. "Tell us everything that happened."

Wearily, Deirdre began to talk.

XXX

Two hour later, Scully made her way over to John and Monica's house, where John, Mulder and Monica had retreated. They had left Deirdre in the hands of Anne, and their sisters Jenny and Carol, whom Christi had summoned by phone. The four were talking intimately, holding Deirdre and listening as she spilled her heart out. Scully had thought it best to leave them alone.

It was late, the neighborhood dark and chilly with the onslaught of nighttime, and Monica and John had already sent their kids upstairs to bed. Sitting around a circular table were Mulder, John and Monica. The table was covered in papers, and Scully wearily sank into the fourth chair, a hand over her eyes.

"We rang the Bureau," John supplied, passing her a paper. "The guy's got a criminal record. Did time for rape fifteen years ago."

"Has two prior restraining orders," Mulder added, passing her more papers. "He was stalking women."

Scully nodded, but could not bear to read all the details. She skimmed the paper and pushed it away again.

"How is she?" Monica asked.

"I'm not sure," Scully admitted. "I think we should leave them to talk for a while. There's not much else we can do."

For a moment there was silence. It was hard to know what had happened to her, and to feel so helpless in its wake. But the best place for Deirdre was with her sisters.

Suddenly the back door opened and Christi and Charlie joined them. Christi found a spare seat and pulled it over, dropping it with a thud on the wooden floor.

"I'm gonna kill him," she said, sweeping a hand back through her fluffy blonde hair. "Twist his balls off."

"Tell us when and I'll be there," Monica said, looking equally as angry.

"We can't do that," Mulder intervened. "If you skirt the law and confront him, you'll only give him power. The attention will be a reward for the act. He may get the urge to complete it. To own her."

Christi closed her eyes.

"She won't go to the police," Charlie said. "We can't force her."

"She doesn't have to go to the police," Scully said. "His GP has a duty of care. He's aware of the criminal record, aware of his mental illness, that's the very reason he was referred to her. All she would need to do is to inform the doctor what happened, and things may very well take their own course. He'll be put in the care of a psychiatrist, someone who has experience dealing with criminal rehabilitation. He may even be institutionalised, get inpatient care."

Christi rolled her eyes. "He doesn't need _care_, he needs a cattle prod between the legs."

"And castration," Monica agreed.

"So that's it?" John asked helplessly. "We just let him get away with it?"

"What would you prefer?" Scully asked. "Traumatise her by forcing her to take the stand? To tell every detail in court: the feel of his hands, his threats, her turmoil. It'll be dragged through every appeal they have, the same information heard time and again, and at the end of the day, a crime committed under psychaitric illness will lead to time in a specialised institution, not prison itself. And for her, what would have been a bad 48 hours will grow into one traumatic year of her life."

"We could pay him a visit," John suggested darkly.

"You have two kids," Mulder pointed out. "Think of what'll happen if you get arrested on assault charges."

"If won't matter what happened to Deirdre," Charlie added. "You'll discredit the FBI, not to mention yourselves. You're too well-known. And the kids will get dragged in. I won't let it happen."

Scully reflected that there would have been a time when Mulder and Charlie would have grabbed the nearest gun and been the first out the door. But since the accident, and since the birth of the kids, they had both reached a maturity in middle age that led them to reflect before they acted.

"It's Deirdre's call," Scully said. "And whatever she decides is something we'll have to abide by. At the end of the day it's about her sanity."

No one said anything. They all looked depressed.

"There's so much pain in the world," Monica said at last. "All the time. I'm tired of it."

Scully and John both reached over to rub her back.

"She doesn't deserve it," Christi said, shaking her head. "She's done nothing but help people. And all of us ..."

"But after forty years of messing with people's heads, consulting the mentally ill, she was bound to strike a whacko," John said flatly. "In all the tens of thousands she's treated, it was overdue."

"I wouldn't expect that thought to bring her any comfort," Scully said. "But -" She sighed, and looked to Charlie, Mulder and John, hoping they would understand what she next wanted to say, "- Just be gentle with her for a little while. If she prefers not to be touched, don't question it. Her fear of you, of men, may not be rational, but it can't be helped."

John nodded, and a look guilt marred his features.

"I didn't mean to scare her," he said.

"You couldn't have known," Monica said. "None of us did."

They avoided Scully's eyes. She had known, even if she didn't have permission to tell them.

"Have you ever had anyone act like that toward you?" Christi asked seriously. "When you've consulted as a doctor?"

"Nothing quite like that," Scully said. "I've had men find me attractive, but that's not a crime."

"If it ever does happen, tell us straight away," Monica said firmly. "No hanging around leaving us in suspense."

"If anyone ever laid a hand on you, I'd kill 'em," John said flatly. "I don't care how many kids we have."

Scully smiled. She took it as a compliment, reached across the table to touch his hand briefly. The four of them had been through so much together, they would do anything for each other. When she withdrew her hand she laid it on Mulder's, and he held it warmly.

There was a knock on the back door. John tilted his head to get a view of Carol seeking entrance. She was the youngest of the four sisters, blonde like the others, but shorter and with a whacky tom-boyish manner.

"Hey John," she said, letting herself in. "Christi."

There were hugs and kisses for her niece and nephew; they had not had the chance to give proper greetings earlier.

"How is she?" Mulder asked.

"She's all right," Carol said. "He knocked her around, but she's better now she's talked. Laughing a little. We'll stay with her another few hours. But I think she'll be fine. She's tough, and she won't let him get the better of her. She just needed a shoulder."

"Are you sure?" Monica asked.

"Let us handle her," Carol said, squeezing Monica's shoulder. "She'll be fine. We've known her sixty years, there isn't much we can't handle. She -"

Carol suddenly broke off, catching sight of a figure making their way down the stairs. It was Lily, dressed in her favourite purple pyjamas, her brown her ruffled from an unsuccessful effort at sleep.

"Hey, Kiddo!" Carol greeted cheerfully.

Scully knew Carol adored kids, and in a second had swept Lily into a hug, planting a kiss on her head. Lily giggled, and when Carol ler her go, continued around to Monica.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Monica asked, sweeping her hair back affectionately.

Lily was nearly eleven now, but her bond with Monica had not yet dampened with age. She was a tough cool girl during the day, and when around her friends, but when the world wasn't watching, she still loved to crawl into Monica's lap and cuddle a while. The physical umbilical cord between them had been cut, but the psychological one was still intact.

"What's the matter?" Monica cooed, letting Lily sit in her lap, where she leaned her tired head against Monica's shoulder. "Can't sleep?"

"Bed time is bed time," John said firmly.

Lily ignored him.

It had been one of few areas of disagreement in John and Monica's marriage. Monica had no objections in either of her children crawling into her lap for a late night cuddle. Simply, she adored it. John had tried to enforce rules, but the numbers were against him. In the early days, they had argued over Lily coming into their bed, and seeing the effect it had on John and their marriage, Scully had been forced to weigh into the argument and come down on John's side. Anne and Christi had both backed her up. Since then, they did not crawl into bed with her, but neither would Monica order Lily straight back upstairs if she popped out of bed and sought her out for a cuddle.

"Who's the man outside?" Lily asked idly.

"What man?" Monica asked, looking instantly alert.

Lily shrugged. "The man."

"That's Uncle David," Carol supplied. "He's out talking cars with your Grandpa Jack."

David was Carol's husband. After having escorted his wife over to their house, he had felt it tactful to retreat and leave the talking to the women.

But Lily was shaking her head. "It's not Uncle David."

Monica looked on edge, but Mulder beat her to it. He had already jumped up from his chair and gone to the living room window, pulling back the curtain.

"You should be asleep," John said flatly, as he got up to join him. "Not gazin' out windows."

"Nothing there," Mulder reported.

John took a look himself, just to be sure, and found nothing. He looked back toward his daughter, evidently wondering if this was another of her excuses to delay getting sent back to bed. Scully, like John, knew she had an endless supply. _I'm thirsty ... there was a noise ... it's too dark ... _Whenever Scully was babysitting, she had the same approach as John, and marched them straight back to bed. Mulder, however, took delight in following either child upstairs, and helping them search under the bed, in the closet, or behind the curtain for the monster in question. He even stirred them up further, bringing in a notepad and pretending to take down a description of the intruder. It was hours before they settled again, but Mulder maintained life was too short to not have a little fun.

The back door opened. "Dad!"

It was Catherine. She was also in her pyjamas, her long red hair flowing down her back. She had evidently come from next door in bare feet, as there was dirt on her toes.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Charlie asked firmly.

But Catherine looked white and a little scared. Scully knew immediately something was wrong.

"What's the matter?"

"There's someone at the door," Catherine said, looking nervous.

"What door?" Christi asked.

"_Ours_," Catherine replied. "I was just getting a drink, and the door handle's twisting."

This was too much of a coincidence, and in a flash Scully had jumped to her feet. She grabbed Catherine's arm and steered her toward Carol.

"Stay here with your Aunt," she said.

She then marched for the front door. The others were all behind her, leaving Carol with the two girls, wary with one arm around each.

XXX

The night was cold and cloudy. With no moonlight, it was hard to see anything for a moment Scully stood on the porch, letting her eyes adjust. There was a lone streetlight several houses away, but the street was mostly dark shadows silhouetted against the night sky.

She stepped hesitantly out onto the front lawn, keeping her eyes peeled in all directions. Not a single leaf or blade of grass was moving. The night was perfectly still.

"I can't see anyone," Mulder said, off to her right.

Scully kept walking. The two girls had obviously seen _something_. She continued down toward the sidewalk.

Charlie went around to check his own front lawn, where Catherine had seen the prowler turning their front doorknob. He stared for a moment, but the lawn was still.

"There's no one here," Christi said, looking confused.

Suddenly there was a loud shout from John.

"HEY!"

Outside Anne and Jack's house, a shadowy figure broke into a run. John was then running himself, bolting after him.

"FBI! STOP THERE!"

Then they were all running. Mulder, who still worked out regularly, moved to the front of the pack. The man Bernard was fast, but John was faster, and in the length of another housefront, John had leapt on top of him, tackling him to the ground and slamming him over onto his back with law-enforcement precision.

The man looked scared. His eyes were wide as he stared up at the man who had him pinned.

"Are you Bernard Roach?" he demanded.

"Answer him!" Mulder yelled, joining his side. "_Are you Bernard Roach_?"

Behind them, Scully saw her own front door open, Anne emerging with Deirdre and Jenny at her side. Their eyes widened. Anne kept a protective hand on Deirdre's arm as they made their way down toward them.

Terrified, the man nodded to Mulder's question.

"Then let me introduce myself," John said aggressively. He pulled out his FBI badge and slammed it against Roach's overweight torso. "Special Agent John Doggett. FBI. You picked the wrong family, partner."

Scully put up at hand to Deirdre as she approached, indicating for her to not cross the last few metres. She still felt a duty to her safety, as even under John's force, Bernard's head twisted toward Deirdre in recognition. She looked back at him coldly, giving little away.

"Is it him?" Scully asked.

Deirdre nodded.

"Let's call the police," Scully said. "They can handle it from here."

The others however, had not yet finished.

"What are you doing lurking outside my house?" Monica demanded.

It had been twelve years since she had been a been a member of the FBI, but as she glared hard at him Scully felt it was as if she had never left.

"More to the point," John said aggressively, still keeping him pinned, "what the hell are you doing raping my aunt?"

Bernard spoke with a pathetic whimper. "I -"

"What's that?" Mulder asked.

He stared up in terror. "I didn't!"

Scully felt almost disgusted. The man was a pathetic, overweight coward.

"Thanks only to her colleague," John said. "And when I see my new buddy I'll be buyin' him a beer. But we all know you would've, and that means you're history."

"I say we take him around the corner and trash him," Christi suggested. Her face was menacing.

Across the street, one of their neighbours' porch lights went on, and a young father stepped out with a golf club. He lowered it when he saw who they were, looking relieved.

"That means you're lucky," John said fiercely. "You'd better thank that witness for your life."

He slammed Bernard's head back down against the asphalt.

Scully called over to the man. "Call 911!"

Their neighbour nodded and disappeared.

"But don't be too thankful," Monica added fiercely. "Because when we're finished with you we're going to have your balls as a souvenir."

And with the protection of no longer being an FBI agent, she promptly spat in his face.

Far in the distance sirens began to wail, more porch lights came on, but under Anne's arm, Deirdre was looking almost amused.

XXX

It was hour later before things finally settled, when they finished giving their statements to the local police and had been allowed to retreat back to the comfort of Monica and John's living room. There were hot drinks all around, and the late hour long forgotten, they milled around the kitchen. Their depression of only a few hours' ago had turned to relief, and Deirdre was much happier now that he had been arrested. The only one absent was Monica, who was finishing settling Lily back into bed, and despite walking her upstairs nearly half an hour ago, was yet to reappear.

"I thought you'd find him," Anne said to John. "But not quite that fast."

"He as good as knocked on our door," John replied.

Despite leading the attack, John did not seem overjoyed. On the contrary, his mood was flat and almost disappointed.

"What did you want?" Scully asked, spotting his mood. "More of a challenge?"

John tilted his head thoughtfully to the side, but in the end elected not to take the bait. Instead, he looked to Deirdre, who was content with a mug of coffee in her hands.

"What matters is you're all right," he said.

"Hear hear," Carol agreed.

There was a monentary silence. Outside the wind had picked up.

"I keep telling you to move in," Anne said to Deirdre. "Maybe you should think about it."

"No," Deirdre said politely. "Thanks anyway."

"You're never home," Carol added. "You're always here. You might as well claim a bedroom."

"You'd be more than welcome," Jack said, backing up his wife.

"Thanks," Deirdre said. "But I'd only cramp your style."

"Cramp it how?" Anne asked.

Deirdre gave her a look, her mouth turning up at the corners.

"Oh," Anne said, smiling herself, "Well I suppose it means we'd have to stop having sex on the kitchen table, but I'm sure we'll adjust."

Jack threw her a wink.

The relationship between Anne and Jack never ceased to impress Scully. They had been married well over forty years, yet were still so in love with each other. She knew also they had a very active sex life, and that the mutual sex drive that caused Anne to fall pregnant at seventeen had never quite dimmed.

At that moment Monica finally joined them, coming back down the stairs with an exhausted expression as though she had hiked across the continent in the time she had been gone.

"You were gone a while," Christi observed. "She couldn't settle?"

Mulder looked curious. "Insomnia thy name is Lily?"

Monica did not reply. She moved instead to the fridge, where she grabbed a beer and cracked it open. Lifting it to her lips she guzzled several mouthfuls.

"That bad?" Scully asked.

Monica thudded the beer down and leaned with both hands on the edge of the bench.

"What happened?" John asked.

Monica slowly lifted her gaze. She was smiling in spite of herself.

"She asked me what rape is," she said. "She'd overheard us talking."

Anne worked quickly to stifle her laughter.

"Good Lord. That's one I was never asked. What'd you say?"

"I had to tell her the truth," Monica said desperately. "And I couldn't explain it without explaining sex. I had to explain everything."

Scully fought not to laugh, biting her lip as she rubbed Monica's back in feigned sympathy. Monica took another swig of beer, ignoring everyone's amused grins.

"It may be awkward, Monica," Carol said, who had raised five of her own, "but it's always better coming from you than the schoolyard."

"I know," Monica said, nodding. She looked to John with a teasing smile. "But the next one's yours."

"I remember when I had that talk with Catherine," Christi said, who had done it only a few months before. "Her primary concern was whether Aunt Dana really did it. She couldn't believe that everyone really does it, or that it could possibly be enjoyable."

"She'll learn soon enough," Mulder said, an amused twinkle in his eye.

"She's twelve now," John agreed. "Give it a few years."

"Yeah, I'm in no hurry," Christi said.

There was another brief pause.

"You did tell her it can be a beautiful thing?" Deirdre asked suddenly. "Sex?"

"Yeah," Monica said, nodding. "She didn't ask because she's bothered. She just wanted to know. She's curious."

"Good," Deirdre said, looking relieved.

"Do you know that yourself?" Anne asked seriously.

Deirdre smiled to herself.

"I know that I have a great family," she said. "Second to none."

She rinsed her mug and turned it upside down on the sink.

"I'm going to have a quick word with Lily," she said, heading for the stairs.

Scully knew she was going to make sure that Lily was not bothered by the day's events, and would not develop damaging views on the opposite sex. Possibly she would reassure Lily that she herself was fine.

"Still the professional," Carol said, watching her disappear.

"I'm glad of that," Anne said. "I think she'd be lost without it. And I wouldn't want this one incident to put her off."

"It won't," Christi said. "It's who she is."

There were nods of agreement.

Scully knew now that Deirdre would be fine. She would stay the night, and maybe the next night, but her life would not be compromised. She would return to her work, to her colleagues and friends, to her busy lifestyle, and none of them would have wanted it any other way. It was simply her career which made her happy, and it was this from which she derived the job satisfaction of being the best in the profession. For she _was _the best. Scully knew that first hand.

"Perhaps we should head off to bed," Scully suggested. It was past midnight.

"You want to show what a beautiful thing it is?" Mulder said, raising one eyebrow.

Scully smiled. She put her mug down in the sink.

"It takes two, Mulder."

She grinned as he immediately started to trail after her. He was a fish on a line, and she caught him every time.

XXX

_I thought I was done with this series, but this idea spontaneously sprang into my head this week and I had to find time to write it down. Having said that, I hope no one thinks I'm odd for writing a subject such as this. It's probably partially because of my hatred of how women across the world are sometimes treated, but mainly because I like writing Scully, and loved writing John toward the end. I hope someone perhaps enjoyed it. If you did, I'd love to know. Feedback makes it worthwhile._


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